


Always Aligned

by Tuli_Azzameen



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, And Luke?, Ben is kind of a dick, F/M, Han is kind of an asshole, It's not a plot contrivance; It's the Force, Reader knows something that the characters do not, Rey has some issues, ReyBen, Reylo - Freeform, Reylo at First Sight, Slow Burn Father-Son Bromance, So wait - WTF happened to Leia then?, Space Opera, Unscrewed up families are not a thing in Star Wars, What if the Empire Won?, and Ben was literally raised by Vader?, and I mean REALLY canon divergent, but fairly stable, hanleia, yet?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-17
Updated: 2020-05-07
Packaged: 2020-05-13 07:12:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 20,804
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19246348
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tuli_Azzameen/pseuds/Tuli_Azzameen
Summary: Canon-divergent AU in which Ben Solo was actually raised by Vader. Born following the Rebellion’s crushing defeat at Endor, Ben has spent his entire life under the assumption that his mother is dead and his father was some nameless deadbeat. The grandfather who raised him always seemed supportive and doting, even if he is more machine than man. But years later, Ben discovers that his grandfather may have lied about everything. Ben sets out to discover the truth about his mother, only to cross paths with a particular embittered old smuggler, his Wookiee sidekick, and their pretty new second mate. The Force has set Ben on a collision-course with not just his long-lost family, but his one true love.





	1. In which the reader knows something that the characters do not....

**Author's Note:**

> A Skywalker/Solo family drama, frosted with a generous dollop of Reylo. Or vice versa, dunno. The canonical sequel trilogy seems likely to be the story of how Ben Solo lost his parents. Mine will be the story of how he found them. 
> 
> Please also note that characters are likely to be out of canonical character, especially Ben. Keep in mind that the course of Ben’s life has been completely different. This is a Ben who was never sent away, never made to feel like a monster, never the victim of attempted murder by a trusted mentor, and most importantly, NOT ABUSED BY SNOKE for his entire life. At the same time, he has also never had a relatively "normal" nuclear family, has no idea what a loving partnership even looks like, and was raised by an only semi-redeemed cyborg wizard. He does have his issues. Just not the same issues.
> 
> In some ways, this story starts out in the perfect world that Kylo Ren thinks he wants. Completely cutoff from the family that abandoned and betrayed him, raised by the dark mentor he craves, with no Snoke manipulating him, and with a Rey who has no reason to hate him...

  
**24** **years After the Founding of the Empire (AFE)**

Heavy clangs of running feet against metal grate. Lava is terrifyingly visible through the wire mesh, glowing red fissures in the flimsy dark crust that floats atop it. A black castle looms behind.  
  
A woman is running, her thick brown braids slapping against her back. Her boots slam rapidly against the metal catwalk, like her heart against her ribcage. One of her hands grasps a blaster, and the other clutches a dark-haired baby to her chest.   
  
She gasps as a stun bolt careens into a nearby pillar. She darts behind it, chest rising and falling with each exhausted breath. Tired as she is, she has to go on. She will never get a better chance to escape this literal hellscape.  
  
“It’ll be okay, Ben,” she pants. “We’ll be okay.”  
  
A voice calls out, cloaked by the electronic distortion of a stormtrooper’s helmet. “Princess, we will stun you if necessary. Lord Vader gave orders that you were to stay in your rooms.”  
  
“Vader isn’t here,” she replies, too quiet for the troopers to hear. She is speaking to her baby son; her voice is colored with an odd, mocking bitterness. “Vader went off to the Unknown Regions to destroy that _dark_ _presence_ that’s _supposedly_ been trying to reach you, Ben. As if _any_ presence could be darker than Vader,” she tells him. “But that’s why this is our big chance.”  
  
She draws in a deep breath, reaching one hand around the pillar, blindly shooting toward the troopers. There is a loud crash, and a lot of shouting. She’d hit one of the support beams. Hopefully that would be enough of a diversion.   
  
The mother takes off running again. “Look Ben,” she whispers breathlessly. “There’s the landing pad. Now we can just steal that ship, and get out of this horrible place. Then you can _finally_ meet your daddy.” She chuckles again, this time with a note of genuine amusement, and just a tinge of nervousness. “Won’t he be surprised to see _you_. The look on his face is going to b-”  
  
Suddenly, the world seems strangled by the bright circular beam of a blaster set for stun. Even knocked instantly unconscious, the woman instinctively curls her body into a protective ball around her baby as she falls, shielding him from the ground.  
  
His ears filled with his own, high, wailing sobs.  
  


* * *

  
**53 AFE**  
  
And the sound of perplexed voices.   
  
“... must not have been in there very long. The life support was dead on that ship.”   
  
The infant’s sobs had vanished, the stifling heat shifting to the cool air of space. No, not space. A ship. He was in a ship. And Ben was no longer looking out on the volcanic landscape of his childhood home. Just at the blank dimness of his own eyelids.   
  
He remembered it now, the small explosion, and the loss of cockpit pressure. He had instantly shielded himself from the airless, freezing vacuum, but must have lost consciousness. The woman and her baby - that had been a dream. A dream, or...   
  
“Well, he was in a TIE fighter; that must make him one of  _ them _ .”   
  
Ben tensed slightly. Whoever these people were, they must have pulled him out of his fighter, still unconscious. But they could be anyone. Pirates. Gangsters. Slavers. He decided to continue playing dead. The better to catch them off their guard if he had to fight his way out of this. He focused on his other senses.

He was definitely on a ship. He could hear the hum of the hyperdrive. But the air didn't have the bleach and ozone scent of most Imperial vessels. This place smelled of leaking lubricant and oxidized metal. Like a low-class chop shop.

  
“If I thought he was Imperial, then I would’a left him there to die,” one of them was saying. A man’s voice. Deep and gruff. “But he’s not dressed like any trooper or officer  _ I’ve _ ever seen. And look at that hair. No way an Imp would be allowed to grow it that long.” Ben felt a calloused finger slip between his collar and neck. “No operating number ink either, and I’ve heard they all have that, these days.”   
  
Ben considered that. These were clearly not loyal Imperial citizens. Not people likely to be helpful to the beloved grandson, ward and protégé of Darth Vader himself. Indeed, since his grandfather’s retirement, Ben now literally  _ was _ Lord Vader. At best, these people would attempt to use him as a hostage, and at worst, they’d try to kill him. They’d try, and Ben would have to subdue them with the Force, and it would be this whole big mess. Not worth the trouble. And he supposed it wouldn’t be particularly good form, considering that these people  _ had _ just saved his life.   
  
“But if he’s not one of them, how did he get that TIE?” A woman’s voice this time. Strong and sweet. Sophisticated Deep-Core accent.    
  
“Must have stolen it,” the man ruled.   
  
It sounded like they were convinced that he was  _ not _ Imperial, and Ben had no intention of announcing otherwise, considering the hostility of the man’s earlier statement.   
  
But by now, Ben could sense that they didn’t intend to kill or sell him. He allowed himself to open his eyes.   
  
An older-middle-aged man, and a young woman. A beautiful young woman.  Ben suddenly felt much more alert.    
  
“You awake, junior?” the older man asked.   
  
“Yeah,” Ben answered, sitting up on what turned out to be some sort of med station.   
  
“Han Solo. Captain of the Millennium Falcon,” the older man introduced himself brusquely. That name. Where had Ben heard that name before? “My first mate, Chewie, is up in the cockpit.” He then gestured to the beautiful girl. “And this is Rey, my second mate.”   
  
Ben felt the dumbest urge to gasp, as if she was literally breathtaking. Because she was. Truly stunning. Her face could have been a computer-generated image entitled  _ Perfection _ , and yet was in no way mundane, as such images often were. Her countenance was lent charming character by the strong set of her jaw and the spirited glint in her eyes.   
  
The moment their eyes met, he noted the strangest sensation, somewhere in his chest. It was sort of similar to the cold sinking feeling one gets when disaster seems imminent. It was like that, but completely different. Opposite in fact. Not a heavy, sinking feeling. It was light. Almost floaty. Like something in his chest was preparing to take flight.   
  
He could have sworn he sensed a little something in the Force as well. Something. There was something. Something special about her.   
  
But no, he needed to get a grip. So she was pretty. So what? Okay, not just pretty. Beautiful. Had he ever thought that word in relation to an actual woman before? Of course he'd thought women were  _ attractive _ , but the word  _ beautiful _ had never crossed his mind before, in relation to a real person.   
  
So, he was probably just getting weird over a beautiful face, like countless men before and after him. She was beautiful, but these  _ feelings _ , they were probably just nothing. Nothing important anyway.   
  
“Ben,” he introduced himself, after the awkwardly long pause. He then did what he always did when he met an attractive woman - he reached up and ruffled his fingers through his hair. This served the dual purpose of looking suave, or at least he hoped he looked suave, and also discreetly pulled a few locks closer to his face, the better to hide his ears.   _ You’ll grow into them yet _ , his grandfather always told him fondly, on occasions when Ben voiced his insecurity.   
  
He tore his eyes from the lovely girl, back to the gruff captain. Ben tensed slightly, expecting the man to demand a full name. Something that Ben knew better than to give, having used Vader as his surname since childhood.    
  
Fortunately, the old captain seemed to accept the mononym without question. “We picked up a disabled ship on our scopes. Went to strip it, and found you,  _ unbelievably _ alive. You’re no Imp,” the old man pointed out erroneously. “How’d you get that TIE?”   
  
“Prisoner,” Ben lied immediately. It must have been that odd dream that put the idea into his head so instantaneously. “I stole it to escape.”   
  
“That’s really something, if true,” the captain replied skeptically. “Where you from?”   
  
He couldn’t say Mustafar - too unusual. Everyone knew that these days, the only humans on the planet were at the Imperial Garrison. “Coruscant.”   
  
“You don’t have a Coruscanti accent,” the beautiful girl pointed out.   
  
“I picked up my accent from my grandfather; he raised me,” he said, a little more shortly than he meant to. People rarely questioned him since he’d become Lord Vader, so he was kind of out of practice. Stupid. Now she would think he was an asshole. “My grandfather was originally from the Outer Rim,” Ben added, making it a point to speak more softly. But then it just sounded like the soothing tone he used to interrogate prisoners, which somehow seemed even worse.   
  
“Ain’t no one asked for your life story!” the captain snapped. “Coruscant where you were headed?”   
  
“Yeah.” That was actually true. Ben had to get to Coruscant. To the Central Archives. He knew that was his best bet for discovering the truth about his mother. And whether she was, contrary to what he’d been told since infancy, alive.   
  
The captain chuckled. “You were headed to Coruscant, in a stolen Imperial TIE fighter?” He glanced at the girl. “He’s either stupid or he’s got a lot of nerve.” His eyes turned back to Ben. “I’ve gotta talk this over with my First Mate, up in the cockpit,” Solo announced, striding from the room.   
  
Now left alone with the beautiful girl, Ben noted a fairly compelling urge to get to know her better. He turned to sit on the edge of the bunk.  “So, you’re the captain’s daughter?”    
  
She lowered her eyes, giving him the opportunity... His eyes dipped down too, he couldn’t quite help himself. Ben’s gaze took a cursory sip of her body, the luscious swell of her breasts, to the well-toned muscles of her exposed arms, and the slender line of her waist, curving seamlessly out to the shapely expanse of her hips. There was something about her that struck him as both fragile and strong, a combination that he was finding exceptionally appealing, at the moment.   
  
“Captain Solo and I are no relation,” she said, still looking down.   
  
He sensed an undercurrent of sadness in the way she said it. For his entire life, he’d been encouraged to show off his Force perception at every opportunity, so that was exactly what he did now. Plus, girls tended to be impressed by that. It made you seem like a good listener. A sensitive guy.   
  
He reached out into the Force aura surrounding her. Nothing invasive, just a quick skim. Not breaking into her mind so much as opening himself up to the vibes it projected. He felt the oddest little jolt, when he caught her sense. A strong mind on this one. Very strong. The only thing he was able to pick up was an image of a lovely girl, clad in rags, sitting alone on a sun-baked dune, gazing toward the horizon. Oddly, something about it brought to mind the old Tatooinian folktales that his grandfather used to tell him, as a child. That, and he also sensed...   
  
“But you  _ wish _ you were the captain's daughter,” he pointed out, giving voice to his finding.   
  
The girl smiled, a little uncomfortably, raising her eyes. “Is it  _ that _ obvious?”   
  
He answered with a shrug.   
  
“Captain Solo has been good to me,” she explained. “I was a just a scavenger when he found me. The Falcon, this ship, had been stolen, and I just happened to be tinkering with it when he found it. He offered me a job, and I’ve been his second mate ever since.”   
  
Just then, the captain strode back into the room. “Well, I’ve gone over the itinerary. We’re scheduled to head to Coruscant, but we’ve got a dozen stops between now and then, and I ain’t dropping everything to be your personal transport service. But if you can make yourself useful, you can stick with us until we hit Coruscant. What do you say?”   
  
“Actually, I’d rather repair my ship and get going. If you would loan me a rebreather, I can fix the life support systems and be on my way.”   
  
“No, you won’t,” Captain Solo said. Ben tensed at the threat, one hand reaching down toward the lightsaber at his hip.    
  
“Cool your thrusters, junior!” the captain shouted, no doubt noticing that Ben was going for a weapon. “I didn’t mean it like  _ that _ . I just meant that you won’t be  _ on your way _ , because we already stripped the hyperdrive from that TIE.”   
  
“You WHAT?”   
  
“Kriff, why do you think we stopped to check out a disabled ship in the first place?” The captain said, seeming completely unconcerned by Ben’s outrage. “Besides, what do you care? You stole that ship to get out of prison. You can think of that hyperdrive as our fee for saving you.”   
  
Ben gritted his teeth together, just barely suppressing a fleeting urge to punch the old fool in the face. His Interceptor?! He'd spent years modifying it! And it wasn't even government issue. It had been a gift, when he graduated flight school at The Academy. A gift from his grandfather.... The grandfather who had apparently been lying to him his whole life. The ship that had also apparently been sabotaged, and nearly killed him. Suddenly, he felt less inclined to pitch a fit over it.   
  
“So you want a lift to Coruscant or not?”   
  
Indentured cabin boy. Ben considered his options. He couldn’t call for aid from his comrades. Aside from now being officially AWOL, someone had sabotaged his ship, and it had to have been an inside job. Someone wanted him dead, and he had a feeling that he should avoid the government until he knew who, and why. Not to mention that if he did call for help, his grandfather would be informed. Ben didn’t want to confront his grandfather until he had some sort of proof.   
  


He reached into his pocket, fingering a credit chit. About a hundred on it. A good bit of money, but nowhere near enough to charter a direct flight to Coruscant. Not even enough to travel refugee. And he couldn't get more out of his government account, or they would know where he was.   
  
Ben took a moment to study the captain, trying to let Force perception tell him more about this man, and how he was likely to behave. He was hard to read, but no more so than any strong mind. A lot of cynicism, which was odd considering the story about the girl. Ben sensed that this was a man who didn't believe in anything, and yet his loyalty was non negotiable.    
  
Ben tried to focus in on what he sensed, as to the man's allegiance... grudge. And given his earlier statement, a grudge against the Empire. A strong grudge. Deep and personal. Yes, Ben definitely needed to keep his loyalties quiet. And probably should start thinking up a false history for himself.   
  
That was all he was able to read clearly. And yet, something told him that there was more to this man. This time, he felt less inclined to attribute it to a pretty face, for obvious reasons. There was something about him that Ben couldn’t quite grasp, like the déjà vu of catching a scent, at once familiar and impossible to place. Something important. He could sense that something, dancing on the tip of his tongue, tugging at the edge of his consciousness.   
  
The captain’s eyes descended to Ben’s hand, still hovering over the weapon at his hip. Solo put out his hand. “Gimme your weapon.”   
  
“Why should I?” Ben asked, calm tone belied by a very sharp look.   
  
“Because this is my ship,” Captain Solo replied sternly.  “You think I’m gonna tolerate an armed stranger running around it? I should have taken that thing off you before you even woke up.”   
  
Captain Solo continued to hold out his hand. Ben reluctantly pulled the hilt from his belt and held it out. Captain Solo took hold of one end, but something, probably Ben’s imperious, contrary nature, kept him from letting it go.    
  
They locked eyes again, the two men. The air grew strangely tense. An odd tightness in the Force. Not a perception. More like an echo of a perception. Ben felt his fingers tightening around the weapon, the leather of his glove squeaking against the hilt.   
  
“Your weapon,” the captain said.   
  
Ben’s fingers still refused to let go. This weapon was his life. A symbol of everything that made him special or important. How could he let his weapon be confiscated, like some civilian at a spaceport?   
  
The old fool made an insistent-sounding grunt, still tugging at the other end of the hilt. Ben glanced over the Captain's shoulder, to the girl, standing behind him. Her eyes met his in a look that was half beseeching, and half annoyed.    
  
Ben sighed and forced his fingers to loosen. He supposed he could always get it back later, and it wasn’t as if someone like him was ever truly unarmed.    
  
The old man yanked the saber out of Ben's hand, holding it up to inspect it. To Ben’s surprise, he immediately went for the power switch. “Be careful with -”

  
The old captain paid him no mind, activating the blade, and illuminating his time-etched face with white light.  “I haven’t seen one of these things in years,” he declared, a wistful half-smile on his face. He then closed it down, and tossed it to the pretty girl. “Rey, put this in a locker or something, will you?” He turned a condescending glare toward Ben. “You think you’re a Jedi, or something?”   
  
“I’m not a Jedi,” Ben replied truthfully. He was no Sith either. Grandfather had taught him that there was nothing but weakness in either extreme.   
  
“You use the Force?” Captain Solo inquired with a tinge of distaste, as if he were asking someone if they took some dangerous drug.   
  
“Maybe a little,” Ben stated, eyes definitely locked on Solo’s as he made the massive understatement.    
  
Solo’s mouth twisted into a sneer. “Well, you ain't using it on  _ my _ ship.”   
  
“What do you have against Force users?” Ben asked, unable to keep a note of hostility from his voice.   
  
Solo’s tone raised to match Ben’s. “I had a friend back in the day who could use it. Could do all sorts of crazy stuff.” The captain’s face seemed to darken. “But someone used his power against him, to lure him into a trap. In the end, the Force just got him killed. And it was probably involved when I lost someone else, who meant even more to me. I don’t want any of that  _ hocus pocus _ on my ship, you got that?!”   
  
Ben ground his teeth together for a few seconds, before answering. “It’s your ship.”   
  
“Damn straight.” Solo paused. “What can you do that’s useful, anyway?”   
  
“I can fly your ship,” Ben offered, tone brightening.    
  
Captain Solo just laughed in his face, a loud, unmistakably mean-spirited guffaw. “Fly my ship,” he echoed derisively. “Fly my ship, he says! Junior, I got a good copilot, and a second mate who ain’t half bad either. I’ll tell you what. If all three of us are dead, you’re welcome to the yoke.”   
  
Ben found that he was really starting to dislike this old traitor. He had the feeling that next few weeks were not going to be easy. At least the time might be made less unpleasant with that beautiful, strong-minded girl around. 

Almost involuntarily, his gaze wandered back to her, finding her already looking at him. So beautiful, and stuck serving under that jerk of a captain. Ben was once again reminded of his childhood folktales. Stories that always seemed to be about some beautiful girl, tragically impoverished and mistreated, pending some sort of incident with a wizard, or a prince.   
  


  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A HUGE thanks to Perry Downing, for her betaing, support, and belief that I am capable of writing more than just silly stuff. And credit also goes to her for majorly helping me come up with the title!
> 
> And to all of you: thank you for reading, and don't forget to review!


	2. In which there is far too much exposition....

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ben ponders how the hell he got in this mess; Vader mopes about his many failures, and a villain is introduced, one of the shady oligarchs who now rule the Empire.

**Chapter Two,**  in which there is far too much exposition....

 

* * *

“Ya know what needs doin’? The number two hold. Lot a junk in there what needs organizing,” Solo declared, not even pretending to care about Ben's opinion on the matter. “Hey Chewie, where's your old data pad?” he hollered. 

Ben was mildly surprised when the cockpit's answer was offered in the distinctive growl of a Wookiee. Ben even understood what it said. He'd learned Shyriiwook at the Academy. Students were required to learn at least two languages, and Wookiee was supposed to be one of the easier ones, since you only had to understand it, not speak it.

“Right!” Solo replied, crossing the room to one of the other wall bunks, and pulling out a rather outdated data pad. He threw it at Ben, who caught it handily. “Catalog the contents with this.”

Ben just stood there for a moment. It had been years since someone had ordered him around so rudely. Even back when he'd been a cadet, he was accorded at least a modicum of respect, probably for fear of his grandfather. 

“What’re you standing there for?! Earn your keep, you moof milker!”

Ben glared lasers at the captain, and followed orders.

The work was tedious. Opening each crate, many of which were rusted shut, and noting down the contents. It was tedious, but that was just as well, Ben told himself. It would give him time to think.

Everything had happened so fast. Barely 24 hours had passed between first beginning to suspect the truth about his mother, and his setting out to prove it.

Prior to the other day, Ben had known next to nothing about her. Of course, he‘d asked Vader before, but his grandfather always seemed depressed by the subject, so Ben had stopped inquiring. In the distant past, Ben had also scoured the HoloNet for information, but found next to nothing there as well. The entire sum of Ben’s knowledge was that his mother was born just before his grandmother’s death, stolen from his grandfather and raised as the adopted daughter of the royal Organa family. She’d supposedly lived an uneventful life, half-celebrity, half-politician, like any princess. At some point she had apparently met Ben’s father, some deadbeat, bastard pilot that his grandfather maintained was entirely unworthy of her. Following that, she had given birth to Ben, and died immediately after, due to complications.

But 24 hours ago, he'd stumbled on quite a bit of new information. His increased security clearance gave him access to a plethora of highly classified data, and as it turned out, there was a great deal on his mother.

Princess Leia Organa of Alderaan had not been just another spoiled rich girl. She had been a terrorist. Not even just a terrorist, but one of their leading members, practically their figurehead. The Imperial government had apparently deemed her, the very idea of her, so dangerous that she had to be virtually erased from history... Or at least the history available to the public. Not the history that was available to high ranking officers like Lord Vader. 

That wasn’t all though. Ben hadn’t been surprised that there was no record of his own birth. Ben knew he was Vader’s biological grandson, but few others did. Publicly, Ben was just Vader’s ward and apprentice, a measure that Vader seemed to see as necessary for Ben’s safety. But as Ben continued to devour every morsel of information about his mother that he could, he noticed something odd. Her death date. Logically, it should have been virtually identical to Ben’s birthdate, but all of these records recorded her death as significantly later, when Ben was almost five months old. 

And then he had stumbled on the most disturbing fact of all, definitive proof that his grandfather had lied to him. His mother had not died due to complications in childbirth. She'd supposedly been executed as a traitor.

Even more shocking was that the more Ben looked into this execution, the more convinced he had become that the whole thing had been a hoax.

The execution had been faked. And the only reason he could think of to fake an execution would have been to make the public think someone was dead, while allowing them to continue living.

Was his mother alive?

Could she be wasting away in some top secret prison? Was she living free on some unknown world? Or was she dead after all?

Had she been pining for her lost son, all these years? Had she forgotten about him? Was it something else entirely?

So many questions. Only one thing was sure: Ben had been lied to since childhood. Vader had lied. His grandfather.  Not just withholding the truth. Lying to him. And lying about something that had a great deal of emotional salience.  

Who knew what else Vader had done? Did he have Ben’s mother locked away in a dungeon this whole time? Had he ripped her baby son from her arms?

Somehow, Ben didn’t think so. Or was it just that Ben didn’t  _ want  _ to think so?

These questions needed answers, and this time 12 hours ago, Ben felt they needed answers instantly - he had always been impulsive by nature. Ben began a frantic quest for more information on what had happened to his mother. 

Most of it pointed to that faked execution. Someone  _ really _ wanted everyone to think she was dead. The only thing Ben had found of use was a database entry regarding some piece of evidence, tagged as top secret data pertaining to Leia. And this piece of evidence was supposedly on Coruscant. 

Ben didn’t even really think about it. He downloaded the record onto his datapad, hopped in his Interceptor, and set out for Coruscant. Only to have his life-support system cut out half-way there. A shower of sparks, a moment of panicked reliance on the Force, and then unconsciousness. What had happened there?

Just as his mind came to this crucial question, Ben noticed the sound of footsteps outside the door. He looked up just in time to see the beautiful girl walk by, glancing in the door as she passed. For a fleeting second, their eyes met, and his stomach seemed to do a strange leap inside his body. More abrupt than the floaty feeling. Like the sudden, thrilling rush of g's during an in-atmo loop-de-loop. What was it with this girl, and making him feel all of these  _ feelings?  _ Since when was a mere look enough to make him completely lose his convoy of thought?

He needed to focus, lovely, sparkling, hazel eyes notwithstanding. His ship. What had happened to his ship...

Even upset as he had been at the time, Ben had done his usual preflight check. A malfunctioning life support system would have shown up. The only possible explanation was a bit of particularly subtle sabotage. 

Ben thought back to the data he had seen, how obvious it was that someone really wanted Leia’s fate kept secret. And Ben had taken no measures to cover his digital tracks. His research rabbit hole had happened so organically, that secrecy hadn’t even occurred to him. Anyone could have seen who was combing through Leia Organa’s history.

Yes, that had to be it. Someone had seen where Ben was sticking his nose, and had moved to stop him. The actual saboteur must have been some lowly tech, no doubt coerced by someone higher up. But the title of Lord Vader, while it no longer bore any real political clout, still inspired a good deal of fear in the ranks. They wouldn’t have crossed Ben lightly. The order must have come from someone they feared more than Lord Vader the Younger. But who outranked Ben? Grand generals and admirals? Moffs? The Council of Regents too, he supposed. But why would any of them care so much about Leia Organa’s fate?

A truly horrifying notion crossed Ben’s mind. There  _ was _ someone who had an obvious interest in keeping Ben from discovering this truth,  _ and _ who might be considered more frightening than Ben himself. Vader the Elder. 

Could it be that his grandfather, the man who had raised him, who’s love Ben had never doubted until now... Could it be that his grandfather would rather see Ben dead, than see him learn the truth?  
  


* * *

 

Vader stepped out from his meditation chamber, pondering his findings. An odd disturbance in the Force. Not deaths though. Something more subtle, and yet bigger. As if the palpable hum of energy that was the Force had just increased in pitch. 

After years of comparative dormancy, the Force seemed to be stirring, somehow. To what purpose, Vader had no idea. But one thing was certain: things were going to start happening. Wonderful things. Terrible things. Impossible things. That was what the Force did, with it's unfathomable will, and apparent fixation on Vader and his bloodline.

He recognized this disturbance. The last time he’d felt something like this, he had been on the First Death Star. He hadn’t noticed it until after Obi-Wan’s presence had been extinguished. That was when he sensed this growing ripple in the Force. In retrospect, that had not only been the day of Obi-Wan’s death. It had been the day that his two long-lost children had met each other, in what would have otherwise been the most impossible coincidence in the history of the galaxy. 

“Pardon, milord.”

Vader turned, recognizing the thick accent. His personal physician was standing at the other end of the room.

“Doctor Tsiern,” he acknowledged. The physician approached.

“Milord, the analysis of that sample is complete. It is positive.”

“Is there a cure?” he asked casually, as if this was a matter of idle curiosity, and not his imminent death.

“No, milord.”

Vader nodded. That was why he had kept Tsiern around for so many years. He was one of those rare underlings that could strike a balance between deference and honesty. “How long do I have?”

“In an otherwise healthy individual, I would say, perhaps three standard months -”

“But I am not an  _ otherwise healthy individual _ ,” Vader interrupted him. “How  _ long  _ do I have?”

“I would estimate - weeks. Perhaps a month. Though it is hard to say how your - unique blood chemistry might factor in.”

Ah yes, the damned midichlorians. Tsiern had learned years ago that they were not to be underestimated. But Vader was fairly certain that they would not save him this time.

So here it was. His death. Vader felt curiously calm. He’d been on borrowed time since the first duel with Obi-Wan anyway, and doubly so since his battle with that creature from the Unknown Regions, all those years ago.

“That will be all, Tsiern,” Vader rumbled. The doctor bowed, and moved toward the door. “Tsiern?” Vader called out, just before the doctor had left. “Do you recall that task you swore to complete, upon my death?”

“Yes, milord,” the doctor said tersely, and left.

So Vader was going to die. Could that be the significance of the disturbance? No. Why would the Force need to bestir itself so strikingly, just to kill one seventy-five-year-old man already on life-support?

Death is a part of life. Yoda had told him that. It had seemed so calloused and absurd at the time, but Vader could see some truth to it, now. Why fight something so inevitable? After all, Vader lived his life in constant physical agony, and was perpetually haunted by the mistakes he had made, and the lives that had been destroyed by them. There wasn’t much Vader would miss about being alive.

Well, there was Ben. Vader felt his cracked and scarred lips spread into a smile around his respirator, just thinking of his beloved grandson. His boy. His Ben. The only real happiness Vader had experienced in the past several decades had been given by his grandson. He still remembered the first time he felt Ben’s tiny hand closed around his gloved finger.  Watching him learn. Watching him grow. Seeing him become an infinitely better man than himself. All the things fate had denied Vader, regarding his own children.

Surely that must make his actions, if not justified, more understandable. He hadn’t meant for things to turn out this way. To steal his daughter’s child in order to indulge his own unfulfilled paternal impulses. A radiant little beam of light to quench the darkness that consumed him.  He hadn’t meant for things to turn out like this. But they had.

He hadn't meant to destroy Leia's life. He'd meant to protect her. It wasn't his fault that everything went wrong. Well, actually, it  _ had _ been his fault, but it hadn't been intentional.

Mistakes. So many mistakes. And his fear of facing those mistakes. Leading to yet more mistakes.

He had failed his family, utterly and completely. He had essentially killed Padmé. He had destroyed Leia’s life. And then there was...

Vader turned to face a nearby window, gazing out into the black.

“Luke.”

It came back to him in a rush, like the freezing vacuum of space through a breached hull. That horrible day, above Endor. That unspeakable moment. He could all but literally hear his son’s screams.

_ “Father please!” _

Vader had made the decision to save him, consequences be damned. He’d even taken a step forward to seize Palpatine, when he suddenly froze. Something deep in this chest, deep in his soul, seemed to snap. 

Vader knew instantly that Luke was dead. He had acted too late. His only son, the boy who had believed in him so completely, who loved him even with every right to hate him, killed by a split second of hesitation.

And Palpatine. Vader had strode forward, grasping the manically cackling old demon by the throat...

“Milord.”

A voice disrupted Vader’s reverie of regret. He turned to see that it was some low-ranking lieutenant, standing in his doorway. The young man was literally trembling with fear, his sense shivering with - yes, Vader knew it well, he’d seen it often enough - shivering with the terror of someone who knows with absolute certainty, that they are about to die. This idiot did not have good news.

“What is it, lieutenant?”

“Lord Vader,” he cleared his throat, as if seeking to an excuse to extend his own life by a single second. “We received a transmission - Lord Vader the Younger - an automated distress code was received from his ship. It indicated that the -” the officer cleared his throat again. “The life support systems had failed.” The young man’s speech slowed down even more. “Remote scans - remote scans indicated that - that - no signs of life from the pilot.”

Vader’s eyes widened behind their red lenses. No, Ben could not be dead. He would have felt it. He reached out,  and even across light years, he could sense Ben’s life force, still burning as bright as hope. Besides, even if the life support systems had failed, Ben knew perfectly well how to survive in open space. 

“He is not dead,” Vader declared emphatically. “Send a crew to recover him, immediately.”

“Already in route, sir.”

“Good. Dismissed.”

The lieutenant's sense was positively radiant with relief as he left the room.

So, a failure in the life support systems. That struck Vader as rather odd. He had made sure to instill a healthy respect for spacecraft in his grandson. Ben was as meticulous as Vader himself, when it came to maintenance.

Vader recalled the disturbance, mentally connecting it to the information he’d just been given. Things were going to start  _ happening _ .

No. They already had.

* * *

 

Baron Skeau stood by the window, gazing at the glittering cityscape of Coruscant. These people. This planet. This empire. They all belonged to him. They just didn’t know it yet. 

Even now, there was no one truly above him. He sat on the Council of Regents. One of the six humans who ruled the Empire.  Ever since the death of the Emperor, there seemed to be a consensus that no one could ever replace Palpatine.

They were wrong, of course. 

Skeau turned at the sound of his office door opening, his velvet robes swirling. 

A droid entered. It informed him that Lord Vader’s fighter had been successfully sabotaged, but preliminary reports from the recovery team had indicated that the cockpit was empty. Lord Vader the Younger had presumably escaped.

Skeau let out a deep sigh of disappointment. For a moment, he wondered what could have happened. If the timed deactivation of the life support system had been successful, how could he have escaped? 

He kicked an imaginary pebble across the carpet, when he realized. The Force. He should have known. He of all people. He who used to wield the Force, himself. That was, until Darth Vader had stripped him of his powers, decades ago.

Skeau’s hands formed into fists in his gold-trimmed sleeves, filled with resentment at the memory. How much easier his rise to power would have been, if he’d still had the Force as his ally. He would have seized complete control long ago. Not so much need to bide his time. 

He took a deep breath, trying to suppress the hate swelling within him. He had no use for it now. Better to focus on the issue at hand.

Lord Vader the Younger was searching for Leia Organa. No must ever find Leia Organa. Ever. Nothing was more important. No one must EVER find Leia Organa. The trouble it would cause...

Skeau found himself literally panting with irritation at the mere idea that someone could potentially find her. He reached up, wiping the cold sweat from his bald brow. He was losing touch. He strode across the room toward his desk, his hands trembling as he yanked open a drawer. He pulled out a small injection gun, and jammed it into his arm.

Almost instantly, he felt the calm certainty flooding into him, the afflictive voice of weakness and chaos receding like a bad dream.

Skeau turned to the droid. “Come here, my friend.”

The droid obeyed. 

Skeau bent over, as if talking to a child, patting it's black chrome head. “I have a mission for you,” he said, in his flawlessly clipped Coruscanti accent. "Something that I cannot trust to anyone else. I need you to find Lord Vader the Younger. Any resources you need are at your disposal; you have the codes. Once you find him, I want to you attach a microtracker to his shoe. When I have his location, I can do the rest.”

The droid indicated that it would be done, and Skeau turned back toward the window.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My apologies about the limited amount of Reylo in this chapter. There will be quite a bit more Reylo in the next one... and every subsequent chapter, now that I think about it.
> 
> Another huge thanks to Perry Downing for betaing, and thank you to everyone who reviewed. Each one means a lot to me!
> 
> Next time...  
> Chapter Three, in which Ben demonstrates that his tendency toward premature and inelegant proposals is apparently consistent across timelines.


	3. In which Ben demonstrates his tendency toward premature and inelegant proposals is apparently consistent across timelines.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rey is not especially discreet about her interest in the new guy, leading awkward misunderstandings, embarrassment, and threats of castration.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please note that the Reylo interactions will not be entirely swoon-worthy at this juncture. This story is only just beginning, and characters/relationships need a jumping off point from which to grow....

 

* * *

Interesting. He was very interesting.

He said he’d escaped from an Imperial prison. He must have been a good fighter, or exceptionally clever. Probably both. Even more interesting was his claim to use the Force. Rey knew that was probably an empty boast. But... he  _ did _ carry a laser sword. 

Rey pondered this as she passed by the number two hold, where he was working. His face. She needed to see his face again. Rey's step slowed as she passed the open door of the hold. There he was. The guy.  Ben. His name was Ben.

She savored that little glimpse. It wasn't a handsome face. It was better than that. It was - fascinating. Like a new skill she might learn.  Novel and interesting. And yet strangely familiar at the same time. Like learning a new skill, and immediately finding she had a curious aptitude for it.

Too soon, the peek had ended. Her feet had carried her past the door. She instantly decided to turn back, pacing back across the doorway, to give herself an excuse to look again.

He was so un-Jakku, she thought. She'd been almost the tallest human she knew on Jakku, and this guy was even taller than Captain Solo. He had smooth, unweathered, unburnt skin. Skin that looked like it had never left the cool, conditioned air of a starship. 

And his hair. No one had hair like that on Jakku. A handful of people kept long hair, but it was invariably stiff and greasy, including her own. But this guy's hair was a mass of silky, clean-looking black curls. 

She had to pass by the door again. This time, there was no choice, if she was to get to the engineering bay, as she’d originally intended. That hyperdrive wasn’t going to disassemble itself. She stepped past, unable to keep herself from looking yet again. But kriff, this time he was staring right back at her! He'd already caught her looking at him once. 

“What’s up?” he inquired, not unkindly.

“Dinner in ten minutes!” she blurted, and then bustled on by.

Well, kriff, now that she’d said it, she had to make it true. Fortunately, it was getting close to dinnertime anyway. Rey turned to head toward the bunkroom/galley.

It was a small room, but not much more cozy than the burnt-out T4B tank she used to sleep in. Captain Solo said it had once been a walk-in closet. It had since been converted to a bunkroom, at one time holding three bunks, two parallel on either side of the door, and one at the far end of the room, with just enough space in the middle to walk past. But it had been modified again, one oval-shaped bunk filled in by a galley unit.

Rey almost always prepared meals for the crew. She liked doing it. And she was nearing her favorite part of the process. Arguably her favorite part of the whole day. She paused at the cabinet, savoring the anticipation for a moment, before opening it with an almost theatrical flourish. And there was one of the most beautiful sights in the galaxy, to her, as captivating as any work of art. Boxes upon boxes of food. Cartons, cans, packets, tubs, jars, all full of  _ food _ . Enough to ensure a full belly for the foreseeable future. She’d literally wept with joy the first time she’d seen it. Anyone would, if they were as intimately acquainted with hunger, as Rey was.

She reached into the cabinet, running her fingers along the row of boxes. Bilbringi pies tonight, she decided. She pulled out several pies, having no trouble recalling that she would be cooking for one more. One by one, she placed the pies in the heating chamber. She then watched them through the little window, waiting for the crust to bubble. That’s how you knew they’re done.

Once they were, she opened the chamber and pulled them out, inhaling the meaty perfume.

“DINNER!” she shouted, carrying the tray of food toward the table, along with some prepackaged hydration tubes. Eating together at the table was something that Rey had practically insisted on, when she first joined the crew. That’s what families did. All the holos said so.

Captain Solo and Chewie walked in, and Ben a moment later. She felt her heart beat a little faster as he sat down next to her. Probably not because he wanted to, there really wasn’t much room. She couldn’t help noticing the firm warmth of his thigh, pressed lightly against hers. 

Rey distributed the meat pies, and everyone, herself included, began eating.

“So,” Captain Solo began, looking towards Ben. “You have a trade?”

Ben swallowed his current bite. “Bounty hunter.”

Two thoughts raced through Rey’s head, at that moment. The first was this odd notion that he might be lying. But that was just a random whim.

The second thought was that  _ bounty hunter _ was almost the worst thing Ben could have said. Captain Solo despised bounty hunters, as a rule.

“Never much liked bounty hunters,” Captain Solo announced predictably.

“Captain, where are we headed to next?” Rey cut in, blatantly changing the subject.

Chewie answered that they were going to Endor, or to be more specific, the Sanctuary Moon of Endor.

“I hate that place,” the captain muttered. “Imps everywhere.”

Rey was still eager to keep the conversation going, and thought that one of the captain's war stories would be a good way to do it. “Didn’t you say that you were nearly eaten by cannibals, the first time you went there?”

Chewie pointed out that it was only cannibalism if it’s the same species, and that human meat was just as nourishing as that of any other animal. 

“I’d prefer a planet full of honest cannibals, over one full of dirty imps,” Captain Solo stated.

Rey noticed a subtle twitch at the corner of Ben’s eye, but he said nothing. Perhaps he didn’t hate the Empire as much as Captain Solo did. Then again, Rey was pretty sure that _ no one  _ hated the Empire as much as Captain Solo did.

Another long silence, this time broken by Ben. “Han Solo,” he said dryly, “where have I heard that name before?”

Rey was the one to answer. “He made the Kessel Run in less than 12 parsecs,” she said, full of vicarious pride.

Ben gave what struck her as a cocky smile. “Heard that record was beaten a few years ago.”

Captain Solo shot Ben a skeptical glare. “I call bantha crap.”

“Nah.” Ben paused. Rey couldn’t help getting the impression of this being the sort of pause someone made in order to come up with a good lie. “A friend of a friend met him and got the story. Some kid fresh out of the Academy. Was chasing after some unlicensed traffickers, who thought they could lose him in The Run. Probably didn't expect that this pilot was already waiting for them on the other side.”

“I still call bantha crap.” The captain paused, eyes narrowing. “What was their distance?”

“11.98”

Solo made a dismissive gesture. “Eh, that could easily be an instrumentation glitch.”

There was that slight twitch at the edge of Ben’s eye. “Maybe. I wouldn’t know.” 

The captain wolfed down the last of his pie, changing the subject casually. “Alright, just about time to call it a night. I’m on first watch, Chewie’s on second and Rey, you’re on third.”

Rey nodded, licking the crumbs off her fingertips. She continued for several seconds, until she spotted Ben looking at her, out of the corner of her eye. Without thinking, she looked toward him, and their eyes met. He had such intense eyes. Dark and soulful and sensitive. She gazed into them for a moment, until she noticed that he was grinning at her. And she realized that her tongue was still out, her fingers still held up to her mouth. She hastily lowered her hand, discreetly wiping it on her pants, and listening to his soft chuckle, as her stomach tightened in embarrassment.

She attempted to bring her mind back to the issue at hand. She was on third watch. She’d have to head to bed soon, if she wanted a full night’s sleep.

“Where should I sleep?” Ben asked.

 Solo turned toward him abruptly, as if he’d forgotten Ben was there. “Junior, you are welcome to any patch of floor you like,” he said, sarcastically magnanimous. 

“But there’s an extra bunk, in the crew quarters,” Rey heard herself say. 

Captain Solo gave her a measuring look. “You sure you’re alright with sharing your space?”

It wasn’t really Rey’s space, or at least she didn’t think of it that way. It was the crew quarters, and it just so happened that she was the only one who used it. Captain Solo slept in the captain’s cabin, and Chewie preferred one of the wall bunks in the corridor.

“Sure.”

“Whatever,” Captain Solo muttered, and then paused. “Rey, Chewie, a moment in the cockpit?”

Rey followed Captain Solo and Chewie, as instructed. She wondered if the Captain had a problem with her offering Ben a bunk.

Captain Solo spoke in a lowered voice. “That punk is a bounty hunter,” he grumbled. “If I’da known that, I would have just said we’d dump him on the nearest inhabited planet.” He turned to Rey. “You’ve got good instincts. You said the Rhen Var drop would probably go south, and predicted that Hondo would try to screw us over. What do you think of this kid? Bad news?”

Rey considered that, consulting her gut. Like anyone, she often had gut feelings, but it was only since leaving Jakku that she’d come to realize that she seemed to make more lucky guesses than most people. She considered her impressions of him, and realized that none of them involved whether he was safe to be around. “Don’t know.”

Solo nodded. “Any thoughts, Chewie?”

Chewie barked that giving the boy the benefit of the doubt seemed the most charitable course of action, at the moment. After all, the boy  _ did  _ owe them his life. He then stated that the boy smelled trustworthy. 

“Right, right.” Solo turned to inspect the displays on the console, but a few moments later, turned his attention back to Rey. “That promise I made you, the one that was a condition of your employment,” he paused, apparently waiting for acknowledgement. 

Rey nodded. She knew what he was talking about. When she’d first met Captain Solo and Chewbacca six months ago, she’d initially refused the first job offer. After much discussion, Captain Solo had managed to get out of her that she didn’t want to leave Jakku. That she was certain her parents had gone off planet, and she was waiting for their return. The captain had then offered to do what he could to help her find them, if she took the job. In a moment of what had to have been wishful madness, she’d accepted. 

Rey was no idiot. She knew the galaxy was a big place. Intellectually, she knew that. But it wasn’t until she was off-planet, traveling around the galaxy, that she began to truly wrap her head around how huge it actually was. And how unlikely it was to find anyone without knowing exactly where to look.

Which she didn’t.

“I’ve been thinking,” the captain continued, “last time we talked about it, you said that you were working on remembering where they went. Any leads since then?”

“No,” Rey admitted. “But I will remember. I know the information is in my brain. I just have to find it.”

Captain Solo looked at her just then. The look in his eyes was... it looked a hell of a lot like pity. She felt a telltale prickle behind her eyes.

“I will!” Rey insisted, and then rushed out of the room, before the first tear could fall. As she dashed down the corridor, an unwanted image flashed in her mind. Two graves in the sand.

She darted into the ‘fresher. The most reliable place to be alone. And she proceeded to cry her eyes out for several seconds, small sobs drumming against her chest, and streaming down her cheeks.

After a few more seconds of self-pity, she finally looked up at the grungy, cracked mirror on the wall. She locked eyes with her reflection.

“Those weren’t my real parents,” she told her reflection adamantly. “My  _ real _ parents wouldn’t have done that to me.”

She then did something that she knew perfectly well to be a bit quirky. She repeated the words back to herself, almost as if her reflection was echoing her statement. She knew it was weird, but the habit felt automatic. Almost involuntary. She’d been doing this for as long as she could remember.

“I  _ will _ find my family someday,” she said into the mirror. Once again, she echoed her own words.

Suddenly, just like always, she felt much less discouraged. She  _ would  _ find her family. Of course she would. She recalled how Plutt always used to say that she was far too clever to be the offspring of those losers. And she was almost completely sure that he’d once told her that her parents went off planet.

Rey spent the next few minutes splashing cool water on her face, until the puffy redness around her eyes had diminished. She then walked out of the ‘fresher, head held high, heart filled with hope. She returned to her work in the engineering bay.

An hour or so passed, and she realized that it was getting close to bedtime. And she recalled her offer to Ben.

She once again approached the hold where he was working. “It’s close to lights out. I should show you the bunkroom,” she said.

Moments later, she was walking toward the crew quarters, Ben’s heavy footfalls immediately behind her. As she reached the door of the room, a thought crossed her mind. Might there be some sort of connotation to inviting a man to sleep in her room? 

But it was too late now. What was she going to do, tell him she’d changed her mind? That he could sleep on the floor, even though there was a perfectly good bunk available?

To her further embarrassment, she noticed that she’d left a pile of dirty laundry on the spare bunk. “Sorry, sorry, sorry!” she exclaimed, shoving it under her bunk.

“Trust me, my place looks much worse,” Ben said, grinning at her. “You’re going to sleep now?” he asked, watching her sit down on her bunk.

“Yeah, I’ve got third watch,” she replied, kicking off her boots. Fortunately, she was accustomed to sleeping in her clothes. A habit left over from the days when she couldn’t afford a good blanket. She'd change them when she bathed, in the morning.

Ben turned his back on her. The realization that he was undressing, hit her like an overloaded freighter. She watched, transfixed as he lifted off his black tunic. A matching undertunic followed, gliding upwards to reveal the full expanse of his back.

Dear maker. Oh dear maker. He was - magnificent. No other word for it. Magnificent. Muscles rippled like the dunes after a windstorm, arranged perfectly along the valley of his spine. And not the slender, under-fed muscles you sometimes saw on Jakku. Big. Meaty. Strong. Muscles that were not  _ for  _ scratching a living out in the sand. Muscles that just  _ were. _

And then he turned. And she realized that she was staring. Even in the split second it took for her gaze to plummet toward the floor, she still saw him. But that glance was more than enough; she'd always had a nearly perfect visual memory.

Dear maker, she honestly didn’t think that anyone actually looked like that. Men only looked like that on the cover of romance holos, not in real life. And yet there he was, standing right in front of her in all of his glory. 

“Hey,” he said softly. Her gaze slid back up to his face.  His dark eyes sparkled wickedly, his full, rosy lips curved in an almost knowing smirk. As if he actually knew what she was thinking. For a moment, the mysterious bounty hunter just gazed into her eyes, standing there, barely and arm's length away. Tall. Powerful. Dangerous. Blood rushed to her cheeks. And probably to other places.

“You wanna fool around?” he asked.

His question was said so casually that it took her a few seconds to process the words. That was a euphemism, wasn’t it? A euphemism for...

“No!” she exclaimed too forcefully. Or not forcefully enough. She had no idea.

His smirk drooped slightly, and the briefest look of confusion flashed across his features. Then he just shrugged, muscles rippling under the skin of his shoulders. “‘Kay,” he said, and with only the tiniest hint of disappointment, as if there was an unspoken  _ suit yourself. _

He sat down on the bed, kicked off his boots and settled in. “Done with the light?” he asked.

“Yes,” she answered, without thinking. With that, the light seemed to switch off of its own accord, with Rey too wrapped up in her own thoughts to ponder how he’d done it.

And so Rey was left, sitting on the edge of her bed in the dark, wondering what the hell had just happened.

He... He asked her if she wanted to have sex with him. That’s what  _ fool around _ meant, wasn’t it?

It wasn’t like this was the first time she’d ever been propositioned. It used to happen all the time back in Niima, except in those cases, it usually began with  _ hey scavenger cunt, _ and sounded more like a cross between a threat and a boast, than an actual offer.

But just now... Ben had really  _ offered,  _ as polite and suave as a servant in a period holo, asking to take a lady’s cloak. No, it was more like... like he was eating some special treat, and offering to share it with her. And when she said no, he just shrugged, like it was no skin off his back. His absolutely stunning back _. _ It had never occurred to her that a man's back could be so erotic.

She could hear his breathing in the dark. He wasn't asleep yet. She’d never slept this close to a man before, and knowing he was right there, no more than an arm’s reach away, not too different than if they'd been in a large bed together...

He wanted to have sex with her. That was rather flattering, she supposed, a man that intriguing, showing interest in her skinny, freckled body.

A thought came to her. If she wanted to, she could rouse him. Put a hand on his shoulder, bury her nose in his pretty hair, and whisper that she had changed her mind, and wanted to fool around after all. He probably wouldn’t object.

What would he do? Would he kiss her? Yes, he’d probably kiss her. A deep, erotic kiss, tongue rolling and lapping against hers. He’d put his arms around her too. Those huge, strong arms, pressing her against his magnificent chest, while he whispered in her ear, telling her how desperately he wanted her, how he’d do anything for her, how he was dying of desire for her...

But no. Nonono, it probably wouldn’t be anything like a romance holo. The fact that he’d asked her after they’d only ever exchanged a dozen sentences, that showed that this wasn't about romance. 

She was aware that casual sex existed, but honestly wasn’t at all sure what that even looked like. It didn’t tend to occur in the sort of holobooks she read. Did you even kiss at all? Did you just get right down to the deed? 

Maybe casual sex was the way things were done, where he came from. He was a bounty hunter. Probably spent a lot of time with fast-living underworld types. Rey had a sudden mental image of Ben, sitting in some smoky cantina, dandling a voluptuous dancing-girl in his lap.

Did she come off as  _ that sort of girl? _ Not that it really mattered, but... Rey thought furiously of their interactions thus far, what she might have done to give him the impression... and then she recalled her earlier concern that there might be a connotation to inviting him to sleep in what he probably assumed was  _ her  _ room. And how he’d caught her staring at him, both in the hold, and while he undressed.

Even worse, she recalled his claim to use the Force. And couldn't Jedi read minds?!

Intense, breath-snatching embarrassment washed over her, tears of frustration welling in her eyes. She was quite capable of crying with just about any emotion, provided she felt it intensely enough. 

Maker, did she feel like an idiot. A clueless, horny idiot. That’s probably what he thought of her now. Intellectually, she knew she had no real reason to be embarrassed. But she sure as hell was.

She could hear Ben turning over in bed. Still not asleep. Could it be that he was more disappointed than he let on? Was he being eaten alive by frustrated lust, burning up with desire for her?

When she caught the sound of a quiet, breathy sigh, coming from his bunk, she could almost believe it.

* * *

Ben rose bright and early, bathing, redonning his same, dirty clothes, and resuming his “work” in the number two hold. At some point in the course of the morning, Solo and his Wookiee appeared in the doorway.

“A word,” Solo said sternly. Ben felt a very slight prickle of apprehension when the door shut behind them. “Rey says you propositioned her, last night.”

Ben shrugged. “So what if I did?” There was a note of defiance in his voice, more out of dislike for Solo's authority, than self-righteousness. He’d already decided within himself that asking her to hook up was probably a mistake. But still, what  _ else _ was he supposed to do, in that situation?

What happened next was so unexpected that he didn’t quite react in time. Ben suddenly found the Wookiee’s paws clamped around his neck. He could have fought back, could have sent both of them flying across the room, but Ben noted that while the Wookiee did have his neck, he was not making any real attempt to choke him.

“What?!” Ben grunted. 

Solo shook his head. “She was nice enough to give you a place to sleep, and  _ that _ was how you repaid her?”

Ben wanted to say that if she had been so inclined, he would have repaid her kindness all night long, in a manner likely to leave her begging for more  _ repayment _ . Not that he thought of himself as having any particular prowess, but it would have been sweet to say that to Solo’s face. But also unlikely to improve the situation. 

“Look, junior,” Solo growled. “I’m not her father, but you may as well think of me as such. Before we found her, she had no one. I mean that.  _ No one. _ Not a single person to care whether she lived or died. She hadn’t been on this ship for an hour before she started treating me and Chewie like the parents she never had. She gets attached to people VERY easily.” Solo paused, glaring at Ben with disgust. “And you - she doesn’t  _ mean anything  _ to you. She’d just be a pretty little notch in your bunkpost, wouldn’t she? You know damn well that you’ll be on your way this time in a few weeks. I ain’t gonna stand by and watch while that poor kid gets her heart broken by some loser bounty hunter who needs a haircut! Thank the maker she had the sense to turn you down.”

Ben stared back defiantly. “I asked her. She said no. And that was the end of it.”

Solo grinned dangerously. “That’s exactly why I didn’t shoot you the moment I stepped in that door.”

The Wookiee added something, furious growls making it a little too unclear for Ben to catch what he said.

“Boy you said it, Chewie.” Solo’s voice went skin-numbingly cold. “He says that Wookies are famous for ripping people’s arms out of their sockets, but he could make an  _ exception  _ for you. He'll rip off something a little lower and a lot smaller.”

With that, the Wookiee released him, and the two criminals left the room. Ben just stood there, panting with repressed rage at being so treated. 

They made it sound like he’d tried to pressure her or something! He’d never given a woman so much as a  _ why not _ , in his entire life!

“I asked her. She said no. And that was the end of it!” he shouted at the empty room. He wanted to stomp into the cockpit and try out that Force choke that his grandfather was apparently once notorious for. Even more than that, he wanted to scream into Solo’s face, that he would have done the same thing, in Ben’s position, if he hadn't been a dried up old man. If a breathtakingly  **** beautiful woman invited him back to her room, and then oggled him like a bantha steak, practically drooling with lust - Solo would have done the same damn thing!

It genuinely offended Ben, to have his sexual ethics questioned. He was never pushy! He always explicitly asked for consent! And he never slept with anyone that answered directly to him. As a matter of fact, whenever hooking up with someone new, he always made sure to explain that his bed was  _ not _ the fast track to a promotion, and that habit had left him with a rather ego-crushing case of blue balls, on more than one occasion.

The rage felt like it was pounding against his skin from the inside, demanding to be let loose in some flurry of violence. Oh kriff he wanted to break something so bad. 

As the minutes went on, the fury began to gutter out, and his brain turned back on. He considered what Solo had  _ actually _ said. And now that Ben thought about it, he realized that Solo hadn’t really been accusing him of attempted assault. He’d said that Rey got easily attached to people. He was implying that if Ben hooked up with her, she would have fallen in love with him.

What a weird idea. A girl, being in love with him. It wasn’t something he’d ever thought of long enough to want, before. That just wasn’t how things were done, in the Imperial military. That wasn’t to say that “love” was forbidden. It just wasn’t done. Companionship came from your buddies. Sex came from casual hookups. Combining the two was seen as a recipe for drama. Everyone knew that making a fuss over one particular partner was likely to get you laughed at by your friends, and passed over for promotion by your superiors. And  _ not _ hooking up was likely to get you some side-eye as well. That was just the way things were.

But... now that he thought about it, that probably wasn’t the way things were done  _ everywhere _ . Ben was probably one of the best traveled beings in the galaxy, he of all people should have known that customs and attitudes varied. He’d seen Rey as if she were some hot lieutenant just transferred in from another base. But she wasn’t.

And Solo had said that Ben would have just fucked her and left her broken hearted. Ben considered whether he could honestly deny it. Well, he  _ could  _ certainly deny the brokenhearted part. In all honesty, he hadn't thought that far ahead. If he’d been thinking at all, it had just been how intensely alluring she was; how sweet it would be to touch her. He had no notion of hurting her, but... he also had no notion of building a long-term relationship with... anyone, really. What woman would want to be with Lord Vader for more than a night or two? Let alone a woman like Rey.

What if she'd accepted? Ben imagined it, but not in a fun way. A few weeks from now, after all this drama with his family had been sorted out, and he’d returned to the base. He envisioned going to a window, and finding a sobbing girl standing at the bottom of it, red-eyed and miserable, while his friends laughed their asses off at him. And her. 

That vision of Rey's distress was shockingly vivid, and he felt a pang that wasn't just the heavy feeling of guilt, though that was there too. He also felt his throat tightening, as if Rey's imagined sadness was contagious, infecting him with the same feeling. All that, plus a fleeting desire to punch his imaginary laughing friends in the face.

“I am an asshole,” Ben murmured aloud. Fuck. He was such an asshole. Solo was right, it was a good thing she had the sense to say no. Otherwise he might have inadvertently created, and then cluelessly shattered that girls dreams. Her apparently fragile heart would have been broken, and it would have been all his fault.

What in the fuck had he been thinking, asking her to hook up?! Sure, he could sense she was attracted to him, but that didn’t necessarily mean she wanted to fuck right then! Besides, that wasn't to say that he couldn’t have been mistaken about her interest. Force perception was, at its core, just a perception, and as such, was filtered through one’s own consciousness. The trap of seeing only what you wanted to see was a constant risk, for Force users. And make no mistake, he wanted her, and wanted her to want him, and thus had convinced himself... 

He was such an idiot, thinking that she had any real interest in him. She was so beautiful, she was out of his league, and he was probably a bit old for her too. 

And now he was back to wanting to break something. He hated feeling stupid.  _ Hated  _ it, and that was how he felt. Even worse, was knowing that she probably thought so too. She must be thinking that he was a heartless, sex-crazed dumbass.

He’d fucked up. The mere fact that she’d told Solo showed that Ben's offer must have made her feel extremely uncomfortable. She might have requested the confrontation. 

He needed to apologize. Like, a really good apology. Ben just barely suppressed the urge to go to her right that moment, and explain what an idiot he was. How did one  _ grovel _ ? 

He’d never had occasion to apologize to a girl like this, before. That was probably because he’d never cared quite this much about what a girl thought about him. That sort of begged the question of exactly  _ why _ he cared. Once again, he found himself wondering what it was about her...

That thought from before came back to mind. Solo had implied that Rey would have fallen in love with him. What would that be like? To be loved by a woman? He honestly didn’t know. He didn’t even really know if he’d been loved by his mother. He had a feeling she had, but how could he know for sure? And he had even less idea what an old-fashioned romantic relationship worked, practically speaking. He knew his grandfather had been married, but that was well before Ben was born. What did  _ love  _ even look like?

And to be loved by a breathtakingly beautiful, strong-minded girl like Rey... There was that weird feeling again. The one in his chest. The warm and floaty one.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As I said, this is only a starting point for character and relationship growth. He was kind of a jackass during their first few canonical interactions too, if I recall correctly.
> 
> Another huge thanks to Perry Downing, for all the helpful feedback! And thank you to everyone who has reviewed. I live for those :)  
>  
> 
> Next time....  
> Chapter Four, in which Ben becomes yet more smitten, and Han is a bitter old asshole


	4. In which Ben becomes yet more smitten, and Han is a bitter old asshole

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Summary: The crew pays a visit to Endor, witnesses the current plight of the space teddy bears, and Ben attempts to apologize, and Han shows just how not-over Leia he is.

 

A pinched voice was piped through the ship’s comm. "This is Sanctuary Moon, Gate B.” It was said with the meaningless terseness of someone who said that exact phrase all day,  _ every  _ day. “Prepare for inspection.”

"Rey!" Solo shouted. "You done reprogramming the profile?!"

"Yes," her voice sounded from the engineering bay. "We're the Farelaon Streak today!"

Ben’s brows shot up. "She knows how to slice a ship's ID profile?"

"Yep," Solo replied, intolerably smug. "She bought a slicer's kit with her last bonus, and just sort of  _ figured it out. _ "

The idea of someone just _figuring_ _out_ how to slice an ID was absurd. Ben decided that Solo was mocking him.

Ben glanced at the captain. By now, he was completely certain they were smugglers, but hadn’t yet figured out exactly  _ what  _ they smuggled, and how Solo planned to get it passed the scanning crew. He indulged in the brief daydream of Solo, led away in binders. 

Well, even if he didn’t get caught now, Ben supposed he might be able to give justice a helping hand, once all of this was over. These days, the practical role of Lord Vader was essentially glorified Imperial Security Bureau.

“I hate gates,” Solo muttered. “In my day, there wasn’t a damn shield around every planet that was worth a damn. A pilot could come and go to any world he pleased.”

Ben rolled his eyes, even as he knew Solo had a point. Now days, any planet that had a population of over 40 million, had a gate. Thus enabling the government to keep track of everyone coming and going, and monitoring all communications. Any isolated insurgent cells stayed isolated; rebellions stopped before they started, avoiding large death tolls. The system was irksome, but it helped keep the peace. Ben idly wondered if his terrorist mother had exploited the lack of gates, back in the day. She probably did. 

Funny how fighting for freedom generally results in even less of it. 

The inspector stood stiffly as he descended the hatch. He scrutinized Han and the Wookiee much with the same look of distaste, as if they’d been something he found stuck to the bottom of his boot. “I will need to perform deep scan on the cargo to be delivered,” he declared.

Solo gestured toward a plasteel crate that had been dragged into the main room. The inspector proceeded to open it, revealing - meat pies. Much like the ones they’d had for dinner the previous night. The inspector then shot Solo a blandly knowing smile, and with an abrupt,  _ gotcha _ sort of movement, he tossed aside the first layer of boxes. Only to reveal... more boxes of meat pies.  The inspector glared at Solo, and sounded quite irritated as he announced that they could proceed, leaving the ship with a disappointed stomp.

The sublight engines hummed to life, and the ship passed through the gate. Ben turned to the captain. “Now, I know you’re not smuggling meat pies.”

Solo gave an arrogant smirk. “Not as dumb as he looks,” he muttered to the Wookiee, who gave a bark of agreement. 

“What  _ are _ you smuggling?” Ben outright asked, fully expecting to be told to mind his own business.

Solo reached into his trouser pocket pulling out a small drawstring pouch. He tossed it at Ben, who proceeded to look inside. Data cards. Hundreds of data cards. “What’s on them?” Ben asked.

“Banned media, mostly holofilms that the government wants erased."

On some level, Ben had hoped that Solo was smuggling something horrible; something that would justify throwing the proverbial holobook at him. But banned holofilms? Ben had a decent collection of them himself. It wasn’t treason though, not in Ben’s opinion. Half of them, you couldn’t even tell why it had been banned in the first place. Some you  _ could _ tell. Mentioning the Jedi for sure. For some, it seemed to be because they talked about the Old Republic as too dysfunctional. Others because they didn’t say it was dysfunctional enough.

“I’m surprised there’s such a market for them on Endor,” Ben commented. Endor was basically a giant retirement home for well-behaved Imperial officers.  _ Building my cabin on Endor  _ was slang for following a distasteful order, without question. "Hadn't guessed there were so many subversives there."

Solo snorted. "Those old jerks aren't  _ real _ subversives. They’re just sick of the bland drivel that the imps approve of.”

For the first time, Ben found himself actually agreeing with Solo on something. Which was annoying.

* * *

 

"Welcome to the Sanctuary Moon, Memorial City Space Port," a preternaturally calm voice piped. "Please note the following Imperial ordinances. A class one curfew is in effect. It is recommended that all personnel travel in groups with a minimum of two..."

It was much like any civilized port, people and cargo rushing here and there, everyone in a hurry. Ben noticed a disproportionate number of diminutive furry creatures running around. Probably local natives.

"I hate this place," Solo complained, for what felt like the millionth time. The Wookiee leaned over and growled something quietly to the captain.

 "I know buddy, I know," Solo replied. "But I'm an old man, set in my ways. If I haven't let go by  _ now  _ \- not gonna happen."

Ben was also becoming more and more sure that Solo's anti Imperial sentiments weren't just a political opinion. He was fairly sure that Solo had fought on the wrong side during the civil war, or  _ the series of isolated and uncoordinated terrorist attacks _ , as the newer history holos called it. The civil war had ended on Endor. Ben vaguely recalled something about a last stand on some desert planet, but Endor had been the turning point.

Ben's attention was captured by a high-pitched squeal of distress. He turned, and immediately determined where it came from. Two of the furry natives were pushing a hoverdolly. It wasn't designed for beings their size; the poor things had to reach their stubby arms up to grip the handle. They were pushing it, but it wasn't going anywhere. Must have been something wrong with the suspensors.

He then saw the real source of the distress. A trooper stood immediately behind them, shouting for them to hurry up, along with several expletives. The trooper then slammed his stun baton into one of the creature's shoulders. It let out another loud squeal, like before.

Without a second or even a first thought, Ben scanned the room for whomever was in charge. He spotted a pauldroned shoulder, and strode up to the sergeant. "Excuse me," Ben was already talking by the time he realized how stupid this was, under the current circumstances. Too late now. "I just saw one of your men abusing a sentient native." Ben pointed toward the trooper, still shouting at the poor little beings.

The officer barely deigned to glance at the scene. "These things are perm-indentured, you idiot. Mind your business and move along, or you'll get a taste of the baton for yourself."

Ben was momentarily stunned, he was so used to the deference his title usually afforded. One of Lord Vader's main functions these days, was dealing with corrupt officers, and everyone knew it. This pathetic excuse for a sergeant would have tripped over himself in his rush to discipline the abusive trooper. But Ben wasn't Lord Vader at the moment, was he?

The Wookiee growled something along the lines of a condescending  _ nice try _ , as Ben rejoined the crew. 

"It's horrible what they do to the poor Ewoks," Rey said. There was such sympathy in her  _ sense _ . Compassion. And a dash of righteous outrage.

"Sentient slavery is supposed to be illegal, now," Ben grumbled. 

Solo gave one of his mirthless guffaws. "Yep. So all they needed to do was change the definition of  _ sentient _ . Now it's only a handful of  _ near-human _ species. Even Chewie here doesn't count, and he's definitely smarter than me."

Chewie then asked a rhetorical question as to why humans seemed to think that near-baldness was correlated with intelligence.

"On that note," Rey said, tone much brighter. "Captain, I assume you two won’t need me for the drop. Can I do what I did last time?"

Solo groaned. "Fine, but don't get caught."

She smiled broadly at the assent. A bright, warm smile that made Ben's stomach flutter, like a mynock was stuck in there. A flutter that intensified to a full flock of mynocks when she turned that smile on him. "Ben, do you want to come with? You could watch my back.'

Ben turned an instinctive glance toward Captain Solo. He was scowling at Ben, as if he had somehow coerced her into this invitation. Ben was a bit confused too. Wasn't she angry at him? It was only just that morning that she'd set the captain and the Wookiee on him. Could this be a ploy? Maybe she was trying to get him on his own, so she could shoot him or something. Ben didn't think so, but with that strong mind of hers, he might miss her intentions. And while Ben didn't doubt that he could fend off any ill advised attack from her, there was an inherent possibility that she could get hurt in the process. He didn’t like that thought.

"Rey, I get the feeling that you are perfectly capable of  _ sticking _ up for yourself," Ben said, looking pointedly at her staff.

"Ugh," Solo made a loud grunt of disgust."Was that a  _ pun _ ?" He asked, in much the same tone as someone might inquire  _ was that a piece of human excrement? _

"Come with me," Rey reiterated. "Based on what you did a minute ago, I think you'll approve."

The faded remnant of that smile was still on her face, and suddenly, his answer was yes. "If you insist."

"Fine," Solo announced, already turning to walk in the other direction. "We meet back here by 1500."

Ben followed Rey out of the port, and onto the street. Memorial City was - much like it’s spaceport - not particularly unique for an Imperial city. Moderately tall buildings, clean streets.  As they walked, the only distinctive feature Ben noticed was that every few blocks, there was a small park of sorts, with a few huge coniferous trees, and a bench or two. Something about those trees struck Ben as being like animals, confined in a zoo. Museum relics, behind glass.

Rey and Ben walked in silence for a few minutes, before Ben realized that this was the perfect time for that  _ really  _ good apology.

"I'm really sorry about -" he paused. Fuck, what did he say? He should have taken a moment to plan before opening his big, dumb mouth. "Making you uncomfortable, last night. It was stupid of me, and it won't happen again."

He opened his mind to her vibes, examining them. To his great confusion, he sensed a bit of frustration and embarrassment, though no real hostility.

"It's alright," she paused awkwardly. "I was just trying to be nice, offer you the free bunk, but I could see how that - could have been misconstrued."

He kept on listening intently to her  _ sense _ . No deception. No vindictive pleasure. So, she  _ hadn’t  _ asked Solo and the Wookiee to confront him...

Thank the Force! She understood that he was an idiot, not a creep! "Yeah."

They walked in silence for a few moments, until Ben found his voice again. “I’ve gotta ask- “ he paused, making a  _ very  _ conscious effort to not sound accusatory. “If it didn’t bother you, why did you tell the captain?”

He glanced at her as he said it, and interestingly, her face had flushed bright red. It was several seconds before she answered. “I - um - who  _ else  _ was I supposed to tell?” her voice became less embarrassed, almost defiant. “I mean, when something interesting happens, it’s just kind of human nature to want to tell someone about it.”

Ben considered that. It was kind of true, and it wasn’t like she had any female friends on board. If her previous life had been as isolated, and neglectful as Solo made it sound, he supposed that she might not even know that their interaction of the previous night wasn’t the sort of thing you tell your would-be father, unless you mean him to rough up the other party involved. 

A few moments later, Rey stopped at the door of a building. It was a large, warehouse-type structure, nondescript except for the crude etching of a tree adorning the front door.

Rey knocked on it, and one of the diminutive furry locals answered. They exchanged a few words. To his shock, Rey actually seemed to both understand and  _ speak  _ their language. The native motioned for them to enter, and Ben picked up a strong sense of excitement from the furry doorman.

The inside of the building was one of the stranger things Ben had ever seen. His feet crunched through a thick layer of dirt and dead leaves that covered the floor. There was a primitive fire, burning in one corner, and dozens of tree branches hung on wires, from the ceiling. “What  _ is  _ this place?”

“A recreation hall. They have it decorated to simulate what their lives looked like before the Empire.” Rey explained, following their furry guide over to the fire. She then began speaking loudly in the creature's language. The room immediately quieted, and the natives listened with rapt attention. Rey continued on for the equivalent of a few sentences, and when she stopped, the creatures began heatedly conversing among themselves. 

During the locals’ deliberation, Ben couldn't help asking. “How many languages  _ do  _ you speak?”

“Fourteen,” Rey answered distractedly.

“Most impressive,” Ben commented. Most educated beings in the galaxy were bi or trilingual. Ben himself spoke five languages fluently. But fourteen was quite a few. He fleetingly wondered how someone as young as her could have picked up that much knowledge. 

Ben could feel the excitement building in the room, radiating off the inhabitants. After a few minutes, they seemed to have singled out several individuals, now standing expectantly before Rey. Most of them appeared to have infants in their arms, or small cubs clinging to their legs.

Rey called out a few more sentences, and the creatures formed an orderly line behind her.

A few moments later, Rey began to walk, the little natives waddling in an obedient tail behind her as she exited the warehouse and strode onto the city streets, and back in the direction of the spaceport. By now, Ben was tolerably sure of what she was trying to do.

With a few long strides, he caught up with her and walked close at her side, speaking as quietly as he could. “You’ll never get them off planet. They’ll have records of how many life forms were on the ship when we landed. They’ll notice if its way more.”

“We’re not taking them off-world; most of them wouldn’t want that anyway. There’s a small continent to the west, that the Empire hasn’t taken any interest in. The Ewoks there are allowed to live as they please.”

Ben considered that, and all but immediately determined that her plan just might work. It showed cleverness. Ben felt the corner of his lips curl into a smirk. Was there anything more satisfying than someone using cunning to do good? Though this notion was immediately followed by a rush of not-quite guilt. More straightforward anxiety. He was helping someone break the law. But only a few more moments of consideration set his mind back at ease. These natives were clearly being mistreated, and the local government wasn’t doing anything about it. Ben made a mental note to look into the matter when he returned to normal life. 

Rey led her charges into the spaceport without incident. That was, until they came to the hangar.

Two troopers stood at the door.

“Where are you taking these  _ things _ ?” 

“We need them to move cargo,” Rey answered quickly.

For a moment, Ben thought that might be sufficient, but no. “We’ll need to see your authorization, and to scan their codes.”

Ben knew a looming disaster when he saw one. He stepped forward, standing between Rey and the troopers. “That is not necessary in this particular case,” Ben said, discreetly moving his hand.  

“That is not necessa-” The trooper’s echo was abruptly cut off by the metallic screech of a blaster shot. And then another.

The two troopers pitched forward, to reveal Captain Solo, standing several meters away, blaster still raised.

“What the hell!?” Ben shouted indignantly. He looked down at the two troopers, each with a smouldering hole in their backs. He felt the faint ripple in the Force as the two of them died, half a moment later.

Ben had a soft spot for stormtroopers; he’d been around them his whole life. One of the only real deprivations of his childhood was that there were no humanoid children around in Vader’s Mustafar castle. The closest thing Ben had was the soldiers at the garrison, and he’d spent many a happy hour listening to them talk, trying on their buckets. They always pretended to fall over dead when Ben pointed a blaster-shaped hand gesture at them.

These two were obviously not pretending. One of the things about troopers was that their masks made them look the same. On one hand, it made them less like individuals, and on the other hand, you never knew who was under the bucket. As Ben looked down at the two dead troopers, it wasn’t hard to imagine one of them as Meron, Ben’s best friend since the Academy. The other could be Efehn, that promising new conscript that had become Meron’s protégé. 

“You didn’t have to kill them!” Ben bellowed at Captain Solo. “I had everything under control!”

Solo slowly paced forward toward the scene, giving his blaster a wholly unnecessary flourish as he put it back in its holster.

“You didn’t need to kill them,” Ben repeated. 

“ _ Need _ \- maybe not, but  _ want -  _ look here, Junior. I  _ like _ killing imps. I don’t get to do it very often anymore, so it’s a rare treat. Killing imps fills me with  _ joy _ ,” Solo said, in a tone that could not have been less joyous. “And if you’ve got a problem with it, you’re welcome to go to hell. And  _ not  _ on my ship.”

Ben was a heartbeat away from taking Solo’s implied suggestion to fuck off, but he felt a rather strong surge of instinct.  _ Stay.  _ The Force seemed to be telling him to stay. Or was it the girl standing beside him?

Chewie growled that they would have to do something with the bodies. 

“Drag ‘em on board, and we’ll dump ‘em over the ocean,” Solo replied.

Chewie stepped forward to follow the order, when Solo raised a hand. “Wait. Not you. Give that old back of yours a rest.” Solo turned to Ben, his smirk as cold as ice. “Let  _ him  _ do it.”

Ben was tolerably sure that he had never hated anyone so much in his life, but he moved to obey. Solo and the Wookiee disappeared onto the ship.

He felt a small hand on his arm, and felt an odd leap in his stomach, when he found Rey looking up at him. “Don’t judge him too harshly,” she said earnestly. “Captain Solo has good reason to hate them.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Chewie told me that years ago, there was a woman that Captain Solo loved very much. The Empire killed her. Chewie said that even after all these years, the captain still mourns for her.”

“Oh-ho,” Ben grumbled sarcastically. “After all these years, he  _ finally  _ caught her killers. What luck!’

Rey looked momentarily taken aback. “Well, I would assume it wasn’t  _ those two _ \- “

“Then  _ why _ did they just die for it?!” Ben demanded. He immediately felt bad for raising his voice.

To his surprise, her voice raised to match his. “Ben, you’re a bounty hunter! Doesn’t that involve killing people for money?!”

“But not for  _ fun _ !” The reply came surprisingly readily to his lips, considering it was based on a lie.

“Look,” the volume of her voice lowered, but not the conviction, “I’m not saying what Captain Solo just did was right. I’m just trying to help you understand  _ why _ .”

Rey strode up the ramp along with her furry friends, and Ben was left to his gruesome work. He could have just dragged the bodies, but that didn’t feel very respectful. Instead, he picked them up one at a time, one arm over his shoulder, as if they’d been wounded in battle.

The ship took off moments after everyone was aboard, and Ben spent the next several minutes pondering that notion from before, of Solo being dragged away in binders. Ben had the connections to make sure that Solo went away for a long time.

As he considered this, he noticed one of the furry natives approaching Rey. It rattled off a short statement, pointing at the two bodies. Rey’s features formed into a look of unmistakable disgust, and she gave a short reply.

“What did it say?”

"She asked," Rey paused, looking a bit queasy, "If we were planning to eat the Tall Crabs."

“Tall crabs?” Ben echoed, confused.

Rey gestured to the two dead troopers. "She assured me that they are _ very tasty _ , once you remove the  _ shell _ ."

Ben simultaneously shuddered and glared at the furry creature, torn between disgust and outrage.

"I told them that it was not our custom," Rey added.

Just then, a voice sounded over the intercom. “Time to dump the trash,” the hateful captain announced, as the ramp lowered, revealing a wide expanse of ocean.

Ben approached the two bodies, and muttered a few words of respect as he shoved them off the edge, still contemplating the thought of Solo, dragged off to prison.  _ But I saved your life!  _ Solo would say. And maybe Ben would have the sentence slightly shortened. If Solo begged. 

Minutes later, the Falcon had landed. The land mass looked quite different from the previous one. Wind-swept rolling hills of dried grass, with a few dark, gnarled trees here and there. Not a single sign of technology. Ben couldn’t help but reflect on the fact that these creatures would rather scratch a living out in the wilderness, than serve in the orderly, and well-fed society that the Empire had built. Freedom must have clearly meant a lot to them.

The Ewoks waddled down the ramp. Rey followed them, pulling her hood up against the wind. Without thinking, Ben followed Rey.

One by one, the little sentients approached Rey, each one hugging her, as she smiled and bent over to embrace them. It was oddly adorable. When was the last time Ben thought something was  _ adorable _ ?

He felt a sharp tug on his tunic, and looked down to find one of the Ewoks standing in front of him expectantly, her  _ sense  _ glowing with gratitude as she threw her furry arms around Ben’s thigh. Ben let out a brief, nervous chuckle, awkwardly patting the Ewok on the head as he turned to look at Rey.

She was smiling broadly, giggling quietly at him. Her hood had blown off, and her hair was coming down, tendrils dancing wildly in the strong breeze. Her face was illuminated with the warm-toned light of the setting sun, her eyelashes glowing almost gold in the glare, around hazel eyes that looked unusually green. 

He’d probably seen something this beautiful before, but had no idea when.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again to Perry Downing, for weeding out my many typos, and putting up with my feral commas. 
> 
> And thank you to everyone who has reviewed. I appreciate every word!
> 
> Next time.... Chapter five, in which other canon characters implausibly appear. Because the Force, or something.


	5. In Which Other Canon Characters Implausibly Appear. Because the Force, or something.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A rendezvous with Lando's crew ends up providing Ben with an excellent opportunity to show off.

 

The next morning, Ben decided he could no longer put off one particular question. “So, I only have the clothes on my back, and they’re starting to get a bit grungy."

Solo grunted in acknowledgement.

Ben forced himself to continue, thoroughly irked at having to ask this favor. “I found some in the hold -”

Solo cut him off, apparently not caring enough to hear the rest of the sentence. “Whatever.”

Ben managed to shake off his irritation as he bathed, and proceeded to don the old clothing he’d found. It just about fit, though not well. Whomever they had belonged to had been slightly shorter, and a bit less muscular. The pants were a little too short, but that gap would be hidden by his boots. The white shirt just barely fit, stretched tightly across his chest, and there was no way the vest could have closed.

As he emerged from the ‘fresher, he nearly ran into Rey. Ben couldn’t help noticing the way her eyes flashed down to the few centimeters of bare chest, exposed by the snug shirt.

“The clothes suit you,” she told him. There was a sweet, shyness to the way she said it, looking him over. “They must have been Captain Solo’s.” Ben had suspected as much, but had tried not to think about it, that these clothes were once on the back of that hateful man. “He mentioned that he’d earned a blood stripe, once.”

Ben looked down, only just noticing the broken red stripe down the side of the trousers. He’d heard the term before, but couldn’t recall when. “I forget what that means.”

“They’re awarded for heroism,” she looked at Ben rather pointedly, a stubborn flicker in her eyes. “Captain Solo _is_ a hero.”

“Or he stole a hero’s pants,” Ben commented dryly. It went without saying which he thought was more likely. His quip earned a smirk from Rey though. Ben felt a strange wave of exhilaration and pride, as if he’d just won a battle.

After a moment, she turned and walked toward the main cabin, and Ben felt his feet following her. That was happening more and more lately, his feet having a mind of their own. He’d be working in the hold, and without thinking, his feet would just carry him to some other room, and he would have no idea why.

This in itself wasn’t strange. Everyone had the experience of entering a room and not recalling their reason for it. But it had been happening with some regularity, since joining this crew. Sometimes his feet would take him to the engineering bay, sometimes to the cockpit, sometimes to the bunkroom. 

The only discernible pattern in terms of destination, was that it was invariably wherever Rey was.

He followed her into the cockpit. “Captain Solo,” she began. Her tone was oddly formal, as if reporting for duty. “The Gauntlet - you mentioned that we could find a cantina or something to watch the big race. It’s tonight -”

“Shit!” The curse burst out of Ben as suddenly and uncontrollably as a sneeze. The race was TONIGHT! Yes, it was. All this drama about his family, he supposed he’d forgotten all about the race. So much for his entry fee.

Ben’s exclamation drew a glare from Solo, but only briefly, as if to say _what’s wrong with you?_ and then _oh wait, I don’t care._ Solo’s gaze jumped back to Rey, a benevolent smile on his face. “I didn’t forget. And I can do you one better - we’re gonna meet up with the Bonhawk. Lando’s got a good holoprojector. We’ll be there in a few minutes, actually.” 

Rey’s sudden smile lit up her whole face. Hell, it lit up the whole room. Ben couldn’t help some rather inexplicable resentment that it had been someone else that had caused this smile. His eyes followed Rey as she literally bounded out of the room.

Ben blinked, turning a blandly confused look on Solo. A bland look that barely concealed a surprisingly strong wave of irritation. “Some boyfriend of hers?”

“No,” Solo snapped. “She’s barely met that crew; only for a few minutes, several weeks ago.”

“She seems awfully excited,” Ben countered.

It was Chewbacca that answered this time. He explained that the captain of the Bonhawk had three young women working for him, and that he suspected Rey was more excited about seeing them. He went on to state that as Ben now knew, she had led a very isolated childhood, and Chewbacca believed that she had missed the typical adolescent phase of _running around and making trouble with a troop of age-mates,_ and that Rey might covet just such a relationship with the crew of the Bonhawk.

As Ben considered that as he exited the cockpit. A few minutes later, Rey stepped out of the ‘fresher no longer wearing her utilitarian flight suit, but a grey vest that he assumed was probably more fashionable. Did women dress up for other women? More interestingly, Ben couldn't help noticing a layer of nervousness, just below the excitement.

Surprisingly, he instantly understood. “You’ve never had a friend before,” he pointed out.

Rey flinched, as if he’d threatened to slap her. Fuck, why did every word he said to her come out wrong?! He needed to explain. It was something that he would have rather not told her, but the hurt look in her eyes - there was no help for it. “I mean - I say that because I know what that’s like.”

The look of hurt turned to one of curious skepticism, but she said nothing. 

“There weren’t other kids around when I was growing up," he mumbled. " I didn’t make my first real _friend_ , until I went away to school. When I was 18.”

The look on her face had turned to glossy-eyed amazement. Her eyes looked brown in this light. Dark and shining. He could see himself in them. He’d never noticed that before. His own reflection in someone’s eyes. Meanwhile, those odd torso _feelings_ were coming back. Soft, but not so warm this time. Almost cool. Soothing. Like a balm on a burn. 

It was several seconds before either spoke. “Really?” she asked breathlessly. 

He nodded. “I remember what it’s like to want a friend so badly, and not quite know how to make one.” 

"We're docking!" Chewie barked. Rey rushed toward the cockpit, and once again, Ben felt his feet following her. 

"So, who _is_ this Lando person?" Ben inquired.

Solo answered. "A lowlife who tried to do the right thing during the civil war, lost everything for it, and went right back to being a lowlife. Just like me."

The Bonhawk loomed large in the window.

“What kind of ship is that?” Ben asked. The words tasted foreign on his tongue. He hadn’t had to ask that question since he was a child. Ben’s knowledge of spacecraft was damn-near universal, just like his grandfather.

“That’s what makes it so interesting!” Rey exclaimed excitedly. “No one knows! It’s so old, and it’s been modified so many times, that no one has any idea what model it originally was.”

Ben was inclined to think Rey was right, as he looked out over the Bonhawk. The hull was comprised of dozens of different materials and paint-colors, with several distinct seams between large portions of the ship. It must have been built, and rebuilt, and modified, and restored, and upgraded and added on to countless times, to the point that Ben had no doubt it bore no resemblance to any original design. 

“Isn’t she fascinating?” 

“Unlike anything I’ve ever seen. How old do you think it is?” Ben agreed sincerely, taking note of how excited Rey sounded about this odd ship. She almost sounded as if she had a natural curiosity about spacecraft that might rival his own. It made him feel... strange.

“Rose thinks it’s hundreds of years old, but I think it might be thousands,” Rey explained in wonderment. “I’ve looked around it, and there are components of that ship that are so old, I’m not even sure what they are. And I _know_ ship components.”

“She really does,” Solo confirmed over his shoulder. “I thought _I_ was a spacecraft nerd, but I got nothin' on Rey,” he said condescendingly. 

Ben felt his skin erupt into goosebumps at Solo’s statement. That odd torso feeling seemed to be getting bigger, more intense. Why did she have to be so damn compelling?

Rey was still looking at him. Ben’s eyes darted away from hers, suddenly shy. Shy? Since when was he _shy_ with girls? 

There was a small hangar on the underside of the Bonhawk, no doubt one of the many, many additions it had received over the years. The Falcon set down on the scuffed, worn landing pad, and disgorged its passengers.

There were several people standing at the bottom of the ramp. Foremost was a dark-skinned man in a flamboyant cape, a middle-aged blue Twi'lek woman at his side.

Ben's mind wandered as the two captains exchanged pleasantries. Just behind them were the three young women Rey wanted to be friends with. Oddly Ben found himself longing for Rey's success. Her happiness. Perhaps those girls would be like Meron had been for him?

He leaned over, whispering to her. "Go talk to them."

"About what?"

"Anything, just go," Ben replied, making free to give her a little shove, his hand on the small of her back. He could feel the curve of her spine, the echo of her skin's warmth. The torso feelings blazed up again, now neither warm nor cool. Hot. Hungry. Like there was a gravity well in his gut, longing to pull her in. 

His mind wandered to that thought. Of pulling her to him. And all the things they could do with such proximity. He willfully snapped himself out of it, when he felt his body responding to the idea. Both that weird chest feeling, and a certain other body part.

“Who’s the kid?” Ben heard the other captain ask. 

“Him?” Solo gestured dismissively at Ben. “No one. Indenture we randomly picked up, to move cargo.”

The other captain was looking at Ben intently. “Have we met?” he inquired, eyes narrowed.

“I doubt it,” Ben replied.

The other captain continued looking for several seconds, and then shook his head. “Something familiar about your face,” he commented, and then went back to chatting with Solo.

Ben turned his eyes back to Rey. He was strangely thrilled by the sight of her talking animatedly with the three girls. Friends. Her first friends. One of them was gesturing to a run-down A-wing a few meters away.

"Picked her up cheap at a junkyard. She's just about space worthy now. The yoke is kinda wonky, and the cannons don't work without an external charge, but she's my baby."

Rey jumped in with several questions on the technical specs, and Ben felt his feet moving in her direction again. Now would be a good time to show off his own knowledge. She might be impressed.

Before he could join the conversation, the room filled with a metallic screech, followed by a loud thud, and a slight lurch in the deck. The ship was taking fire.

Captain Solo turned to Captain Calrissian. "Okay, who'd you piss off?"

Calrissian groaned. "Probably the damn Viraxo."

"Who?"

"They were a legit transport outfit once, but more like pirates these days. I paid them for that shipment! Must want the money and the goods too." He barely paused before shouting out orders. "Paige, Janna, to the turrets. Rose, engineering, keep an eye on those shields. Sweetcheeks, with me."

Ben peered out the hanger, and saw half a dozen snub fighters streak by. Z-95 headhunters. The ship of choice for most pirates. They’d probably been waiting for the ship to fall stationary, and meeting up with the Falcon had provided for that opportunity.

"We'll back you up from the Falcon," Solo announced, already striding up the ramp. "Rey, Chewie, turrets."

"What about me?" Ben shouted after him.

"Go move something heavy," Solo snapped distractedly, disappearing into the Falcon.

The crew of the Bonhawk had already exited to their battle stations, leaving Ben standing alone and annoyed in the hangar. This was ridiculous. He was almost certainly the best pilot here, and he was stuck in the middle of a dogfight, standing around with his thumb up his ass.

Until he recalled the A-wing.

He grinned to himself, approaching the vintage heap, running his fingers along the scuffed and dented hull.

 _Move something heavy, he said,_ Ben thought, climbing up into the cockpit. He recalled one of his grandfather's stories. _The Jedi Master told me to stay in that cockpit, and that’s exactly what I did,_ he could practically still hear his grandfather say. 

That thought seemed to steer his mind toward the nostalgic, both in terms of his grandfather, and in terms of his love of flying. As he settled into the torn seat and took inventory of what controls worked and which didn’t, he recalled an afternoon, long ago….

 

* * *

It was Ben's ninth birthday. They were on Naboo, and had just visited the family tomb. Ben used to ask for that often, before he realized how morbid it was. He liked to sit on his mother's sarcophagus. It made him feel close to her. 

Even so, it was a somber way to spend the morning, and his grandfather seemed to be trying to shift the mood by telling one of Ben's favorite stories.

"So, the Jedi master told me to stay in that cockpit. And that was exactly what I did."

Ben knew the tale almost by heart, how his grandfather had single-handedly taken down a droid armada, at the age of nine.

They were walking through the palace. Random passersby looking at them warily, but no one attempted to stop them. They arrived at a massive open door.

"And this is the hangar. The very same one I took off from, my first time flying a spacecraft." His grandfather turned a smile on him. Of course, his grandfather's smiles were not visible, but Ben could feel them just the same. "And I think it's time for you to do the same."

"Really?" little Ben breathed.

"Really. You already outscore most of the starfleet in the simulator." His grandfather gestured to a ship. It looked like a TIE bomber on the outside, but once Ben climbed inside, he saw that there were two yokes. A training ship. His grandfather took the instructor's seat, and said the fateful words. "You have control."

For several seconds, Ben just sat, staring at the yoke. It seemed like everything he'd ever known about flying had just _flown_ out of his head.

"You know what to do. Don't overthink it," his grandfather told him.

With a deep breath, little Ben began the launch sequence. He looked to his grandfather for some final reassurance that it was okay to take off. His grandfather gave a nod.

The ship rose up slowly, Ben maneuvering it out the cliffside hangar door.

That moment. The moment the hangar fell away, and the sky just opened up all around him. The sudden ability to maneuver up, down, forward, back, right, left and everything in between. The possibilities were as infinite as the sky itself.

With a sudden surge of confidence, Ben pulled the ship into a tight spin. The cockpit filled with the odd hissing rumble of his grandfather's laughter. 

Up and down, he bobbed in and out of clouds, zooming past an arrow of birds.

"Oh no!" His grandfather's voice took on a distinct humoring tone, his distress obviously feigned. "A rogue probe droid, dead ahead."

Sure enough, there was a black, spider-like droid, hanging in the air, just ahead. The cockpit shield shimmered slightly as the droid's laser fire bounced off.

"You'd better take it out," his grandfather said. Even then, Ben was dimly aware that his grandfather had set this up for him. But he had no intention of balking at the gift.

Ben maneuvered into position, and pressed down on the yoke. It only took a single shot to take it out. The droid exploded into an immensely satisfying bloom of flame and smoke.

"That's my boy!" Grandfather crowed.

Even knowing that his eyes belonged on the sky, Ben couldn't help turning to direct a beaming smile at his grandfather, in the way a child does, when their joy is too great to be contained in their own little body.

"Ready to take her up?" Grandfather asked.

"Through atmo?"

Grandfather nodded.

Teeth gritted in determination, Ben pulled up, until he was perpendicular with the ground below.

"Check your angle, and your shields."

Ben did so, pressing hard on the throttle. Before long, the blue sky of Naboo dissipated like a breath of mist, as the TIE fighter streaked out into the star-strewn black.

 

* * *

Rey threw herself into the gunner seat, donning the requisite headset, her ears filling with the chattering of the two captains. 

Two of the headhunters flew into view, just as her hands got situated on the controls. She attempted to shoot them down, but no luck. 

Another flew past. They were trying to harry the Falcon, likely to distract from whatever they meant to do with the Bonhawk. Probably board and seize it.  Again, she tried to track along with the headhunter, but it was too quick. They were too close, and with such proximity, their every movement was too fast to follow with the cannon.

“These degenerates know what they’re doing!” she heard Chewie growl over the comm. 

She scanned the stars intently, hoping to spot one of them before they were too close to track. And then, at that exact moment, Rey heard the worst sound ever. The familiar shuddering whine of the Falcon's sublight engines dying. The lights blinked out, her gun drooping lifelessly in front of her. They were on emergency power. That meant no guns, no shields and no engines. Sitting ducks.

Captain Solo was swearing loudly over the comm, barking orders at Chewie. 

"Captain, what should I do?" Rey asked frantically.

"You stay put. We'll need you to be ready to shoot, when we get the power back on."

Rey sat, as ordered, her eyes directed helplessly on the space battle before them.

That was when she saw it. One of the z-95s off in the distance, headed _directly_ toward her. She gave a futile yank to the controls, to no avail.

"Captain?!"

The headhunter was still pointed directly at her. That could only mean one thing, from a one-man snubfighter - they were specifically targeting her turret, and without deflector shields...

The next three seconds felt like _forever_ , and she found herself actually thinking that _this was it_ . This was how she would meet her end. Right here, in the turret of the Millennium Falcon. She forced herself to reflect on how _killed in a dog fight by pirates_ was a pretty cool way to go, and her eyes slowly began to close in some bizzare imminent and inescapable death instinct. 

Her eyelids had almost met, when the oncoming fighter suddenly blew up in a brilliant poof. She just barely perceived a white shape, zooming through the explosion.

"Who the hell is that!?" Captain Solo bellowed over the comm. 

This was immediately followed by a similar exclamation from Rose. "Who's flying my ship!"

"It's Ben," Rey heard herself say, unsure how she knew.

Rose continued on. "The controls aren't calibrated, and the cannons don't work. He'll just get himself killed!"

Another one of the pirate fighters abruptly exploded, as if to mock Rose's assertion.

Rey watched the little A-wing with rapt attention. It was sheer beauty. Chaos and perfection seamlessly combined. The way he got that old thing to move - arching as gracefully as a ballet dancer, and cutting through space as fast as a blaster bolt.

As she watched Ben dip and twirl through the battle, she had only one thought.

_I want._

It was as simple and primal as that. _I want._ She wanted it. She wanted it to be _hers._ And in that moment, she couldn't have said whether it was his skills or his cock she wanted.

Curiously, his ship seemed to fairly consistently stay within Rey's view. She dared to wonder, could he be protecting her especially? Was he showing off for her? Both?

By then, all of the remaining pirates seemed solidly focused on Ben, and there were two on his tail. But he wasn't firing anymore. Clearly whatever he'd done to get the cannons hot wasn't working at this point. 

A new voice crackled onto the comm. "Bonhawk shields to double rear!" Ben ordered, with the terse confidence of someone accustomed to command.

"What the -?" That was Captain Calrissian's voice.

"Do it!" Kaasha's scream cut him off.

Not a second later, Ben zoomed by, directly toward the aft end of the Bonhawk, his two pursuers close behind. An instant before impact, Ben pulled up in an impossible almost ninety degree angle, no doubt missing the hull by centimeters. The two pirates were not so lucky, exploding relatively harmlessly against the Bonhawk's shield.

From what Rey could see, there was only one left. If that pirate had any sense, he would retreat.  Instead, the last remaining pirate let off a missile. Missiles were expensive. Clearly this was personal, now.

Ben flashed from side to side, only to have the missile stubbornly follow. It had a lock. Rey watched with her heart in her throat, helpless. Ben zoomed in and out of loops, keeping some distance between him and the projectile, but still, it pursued. With no shields, no chaff and no guns, she couldn't see any escape for him. 

That was, until she saw him heading straight for the last fighter, somehow anticipating its trajectory. Once again, he pulled out at the very last millisecond. The torpedo obligingly exploded against the headhunter, and Rey heard herself let out a whoop of triumph.

She hadn't even noticed when the Falcon had come back online.

 

* * *

The crew of the Falcon and Bonhawk assembled in the hangar, staring at the newly landed A-wing. Ben pushed up the canopy with an elbow, stood, and vaulted gracefully onto the floor. He stood before them, obviously ready for his praise.

"How did you get the cannons to work?" Rose blurted immediately. 

Even as he answered Rose's question, Ben locked eyes with Captain Solo. "Just a little weird hocus pocus," he said, with a smirk. After a few seconds of defiant glaring, he finally glanced at Rose. "Sorry I borrowed your ship," he said, not sounding sorry at all.

"'Sokay," Rose stammered.

"You know," Captain Calrissian began cheerfully, "you might be one of the best pilots I've ever seen." 

"Who taught you to fly like that?" Captain Solo demanded. The look on his face was suspicious, though not actually in a hostile way. More the way someone might look if offered an item of great value, for an impossible price. A look that said _what's the catch?_

"My grandfather. He was the best star pilot in the galaxy, in his day."

"I hate to break up this little party," Kaasha cut in, "but the holo-cast of the race starts in five minutes."

Captain Calrissian clapped his hands together. "Nothin' like a little adrenaline to get you ready to watch a race," he declared, taking Kaasha by the arm, and leading her out of the hangar.

They all entered the lounge, a tidy pair of long, velvet couches, a very expensive looking holoprojector, and a well appointed bar in one corner.

Ben was the last to walk in. It felt almost physically impossible to take her eyes off him. Still so interesting. His face was like a good story. One you could read again and again, and always notice something new.

A distressing thought occurred to Rey, as she watched Ben take a seat. She might not be the only one to notice Ben. Rose, Paige and Janna were all so pretty, and for all Rey knew, might not balk at a one-night stand. Rey glanced toward them, and saw Paige eyeing Ben appreciatively. Sure enough, Paige took a seat half a scoot away from Ben. He didn't look at her, but it was only a matter of time before he noticed her, and her prettiness.

This could not happen. Without a second’s consideration of how ridiculously she was behaving, Rey planted her rear right in the rather undersized space between Ben and Paige. Rey felt her cheeks flush as she heard Paige whispering something to Rose, and Rose answering with a giggle. Rey forced a smile and a shrug, as if she found it funny too.

She was distracted from her embarrassment by a loud conversation between the two captains. 

"Who you favoring to win, Han old buddy?"

"Kylo Ren, who else."

At that, Ben let out a snort of amusement. "Heard he's not competing this year," he said, an unmistakable smugness in his tone.

"Bantha crap," Solo replied. "He's won three years running. Why wouldn't he race this year?"

Ben shrugged. "Maybe he got side-tracked."

"Alright Mister-I-Know-So-Much," Captain Calrissian cut in, "who do _you_ think is gonna win?"

"Meron, easy," Ben answered immediately.

"Meron took forth last year."

"A fluke," Ben said. "He'll win this year."

Lando grinned. "How confident are you, in that assertion?" he asked, with a meaningful smile.

Ben fumbled in his pocket, pulling out a chit. "Hundred credits."

"I'll take that bet," Lando declared.

"Shut up!" Kaasha shouted. "It's starting."

 

* * *

She was sitting next to him. Close. So close, he could have easily put his arm around her. Her hip was pressed up against his. He wondered if she'd taken the seat next to him on purpose. But then again, no. She probably just wanted to sit next to those girls.

"You're such a good pilot," Rey said abruptly, as if ripping off a bacta patch, "You could probably qualify for the Gauntlet, yourself."

Ben felt one side of his lips tighten into a smirk. "Who says I haven't."

"You have?!" she exclaimed, voice all excitement. Ben put a finger to his lips, and she lowered her voice to just above a whisper. The noise from the hologram was more than enough to cover it. "You've raced in the Gauntlet?"

His smirk widened to a grin. "I've _won_ the Gauntlet. Never had the spare time to go on to the Sabers though."

Now her tone turned skeptical. "When did you win? I've never heard of you."

"Last three years running."

"Kylo Ren?!"

He put his finger to his lips again. He wasn’t about to tell that to Solo. He’d just laugh and call Ben a liar. "I race incognito. Keeps things fair." Ben was fully aware of the fear the name _Vader_ inspired in practically the whole galaxy. He had reasoned that plenty of competitors might let him win for sheer craven. So he'd chosen a name he'd heard on a mission with his grandfather, when they’d gone to take care of some weird Force cult, which Ben had found morbidly intriguing, in spite of himself. 

Rey seemed to consider his claim. No doubt she was considering his sincere exclamation earlier, and the clothes he'd been wearing up until today. Ben never took off his racing helmet in public, but he never bothered to wear anything but his usual blacks and cape. His credibility was probably assisted by the fact that the announcers were currently discussing the mysterious no-show.

"Dear Maker," she murmured, as if to herself.

This piqued Ben's curiosity, and he opened his mind to her sense. Nervous excitement. And admiration. 

There was a long silence, during which his attention settled back on the race. He glanced at the hologram just in time to catch a glimpse of Meron, getting into his racer.

"You think he'll win?" Rey inquired. 

"Oh yeah. He's a good friend of mine. He's got this _thing,_ where he wants to beat me so bad, he ends up psyching himself out." Meron was always complaining about Ben's _unfair advantage_ . They'd had some relatively heated arguments on whether using the Force counted as _cheating._ "But he _is_ a top-notch pilot.  Without me there, he'll take first."

With a slight pang of guilt, Ben reflected that he should have said something to Meron, before he left. After all, the guy was both his best friend, and second-in-command. Then again, how was Ben supposed to know that a quick jaunt to Coruscant was going to go this far sideways?

But he should have talked to Meron anyways. He would understand Ben's situation better than most. Years ago, Meron had told Ben his deepest, darkest secret... His own parents had been rebel traitors. They'd died in the war, and the Empire had been so good as to bring their orphaned son to a pre-conscription center, and gave him a chance at a productive life.

As he watched the race, Ben idly mused as to how Meron would react when Ben explained that this was a history they shared, sort of.

Sure enough, Meron took first place. Ben immediately looked for Rey's reaction. The awe was even stronger now. She must have taken his prediction as some sort of proof that he was who he said he was.

He couldn’t help thinking that this was the look of a woman who was probably ready to go to bed with him. He could imagine Meron saying, _bro, she’s waaay into you._ The thought of Rey wanting him was not just arousing, but surprisingly pleasurable in of itself. Rey _wanted_ him. The warm chest feeling she seemed to inspire seemed to get bigger, like a red-giant star. The feeling spread throughout his body, to his very fingertips. And of course... He shifted in his seat, hoping the fold of his trousers would hide his excitement. 

He looked at her. So incredible. So perfect. He wondered if he should whisper something in her ear. He could practically hear Meron saying _go for it, man!_

But no, Rey wasn't some random girl at the officers club, that he'd take home more out of a sense of social obligation than actual desire. Some girl that he honestly didn't care if she never contacted him again.

Rey was… He wasn't even quite sure how to describe her. _Most beautiful girl he'd ever seen_ didn't seem to capture it. Rey was more than that. Rey was… Rey.

The idea of a night with her may have been appealing in the extreme, but he'd be risking that fragile heart of hers. And how could he ever trust himself to meddle with something so precious? 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next time: Chapter Six, in which Ben makes a shocking discovery, but not the one you think. Time for a little sexually tense mind probing.
> 
> And a huge thanks to the magnificent Perry Downing for all her help!


End file.
